Poem
Hans Verhagen
SPIRAL
Future, our former trump card, is plunderedas present with a waterhead from the past
and in countless tiny little pieces cut up with humbug
like a shroud in luscious flowing red
snowed out across the millions
A chosen test pilot takes in
his view, puts his insight on hold
and orders a Gregorian hymn
before delving into the picnic on the lawn
His transition is almost seamless,
but such a downward spiral as a source of inspiration
makes one see more and more freelance prophets
taking a dip in still water
To stand still forever
© Translation: 2006, Willem Groenewegen
Spiraal
Spiraal
Toekomst, onze troef van vroeger, wordt als hedenmet een waterhoofd uit het verleden leeggeroofd en
in ontelb’re piepkleine stukjes met humbug versneden
gelijk een lijkwade in kwistig stromend rood
over de miljoenen uitgesnowd
Een uitverkoren testpiloot haalt z’n
uitzicht binnen, schort z’n inzicht op
en bestelt gregoriaans gezang
alvorens zich te boren in de picknick op de lawn
Vrijwel naadloos is zijn overgang,
maar met zo’n neerwaartse spiraal als inspiratiebron
zie je steeds meer loslopende profeten hoopvol
kopje-onder gaan in stilstaand water
Om daar stil te blijven staan
© 2004, Hans Verhagen
From: Moeder is een rover
Publisher: Nijgh & van Ditmar,
From: Moeder is een rover
Publisher: Nijgh & van Ditmar,
Poems
Poems of Hans Verhagen
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SPIRAL
Future, our former trump card, is plunderedas present with a waterhead from the past
and in countless tiny little pieces cut up with humbug
like a shroud in luscious flowing red
snowed out across the millions
A chosen test pilot takes in
his view, puts his insight on hold
and orders a Gregorian hymn
before delving into the picnic on the lawn
His transition is almost seamless,
but such a downward spiral as a source of inspiration
makes one see more and more freelance prophets
taking a dip in still water
To stand still forever
© 2006, Willem Groenewegen
From: Moeder is een rover
From: Moeder is een rover
SPIRAL
Future, our former trump card, is plunderedas present with a waterhead from the past
and in countless tiny little pieces cut up with humbug
like a shroud in luscious flowing red
snowed out across the millions
A chosen test pilot takes in
his view, puts his insight on hold
and orders a Gregorian hymn
before delving into the picnic on the lawn
His transition is almost seamless,
but such a downward spiral as a source of inspiration
makes one see more and more freelance prophets
taking a dip in still water
To stand still forever
© 2006, Willem Groenewegen
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