Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Karel van de Woestijne

Again the asters’ baleful light ...

Again the asters’ baleful light begins to bloom; 
again an autumn comes. And this heart worn with longing,
in which the summer’s torch begins to smoke and gutter,
then shudders, and hangs back ...

– I, whose hand felt the weight of the warm fruit
but was denied a bite in recompense;
who, knowing you are there, autumn compassion,
know myself the more alone;

eternal reaper, I, who cut the corn
but never for himself did bind the sheaf;
perpetual sailor in his watery furrows
who never to harbour came:

again an autumn comes; and again cruel want comes near 
this heart that, without hope, yet does still know desire;
that, ever longing for this autumnal dying, 
after winter knows it’s spring... 

– Again my autumn blood burns in beseeching gestures;
again the heart weeps where the old wound sears ...
– How the gold of the chestnut trees is bronzing!
The silver aster blooms ...

Weêr gaat het veege licht der asters bloeien;

Weêr gaat het veege licht der asters bloeien; 
weêr naêrt een herfst. - En dit doorhunkerd hart
waar smokend \'s zomers toortse gaat vergloeien,
wordt huiverend, en mart ...

- Ik, in wiens hand de zoele vruchten wogen
maar wien de zoen ontzegd werd van den beet;
die, waar \'k u weet, o herfstig mededoogen,
me des te alléener weet;

eeuwige maaier, ik, die sneed het koren
maar nimmer voor zich-zelf de garve bond;
eindlooze vaarder in zijn vochte voren
die nooit de haven vond:

weêr naêrt een herfst; en weêr naêrt wrang het derven
dit hart dat, hooploos, steeds verlangen kent;
dat, immer hunkrend naar dit herfstlijk sterven,
na \'t wintren weet een lent\'...

- Weêr brandt mijn najaars-bloed in smeek-gebaren;
weêr weent het hart waar de oude wonde schroeit ...
- Hoe bronst het goud in de kastanjelaren!
De zilvren aster bloeit ...
Close

Again the asters’ baleful light ...

Again the asters’ baleful light begins to bloom; 
again an autumn comes. And this heart worn with longing,
in which the summer’s torch begins to smoke and gutter,
then shudders, and hangs back ...

– I, whose hand felt the weight of the warm fruit
but was denied a bite in recompense;
who, knowing you are there, autumn compassion,
know myself the more alone;

eternal reaper, I, who cut the corn
but never for himself did bind the sheaf;
perpetual sailor in his watery furrows
who never to harbour came:

again an autumn comes; and again cruel want comes near 
this heart that, without hope, yet does still know desire;
that, ever longing for this autumnal dying, 
after winter knows it’s spring... 

– Again my autumn blood burns in beseeching gestures;
again the heart weeps where the old wound sears ...
– How the gold of the chestnut trees is bronzing!
The silver aster blooms ...

Again the asters’ baleful light ...

Again the asters’ baleful light begins to bloom; 
again an autumn comes. And this heart worn with longing,
in which the summer’s torch begins to smoke and gutter,
then shudders, and hangs back ...

– I, whose hand felt the weight of the warm fruit
but was denied a bite in recompense;
who, knowing you are there, autumn compassion,
know myself the more alone;

eternal reaper, I, who cut the corn
but never for himself did bind the sheaf;
perpetual sailor in his watery furrows
who never to harbour came:

again an autumn comes; and again cruel want comes near 
this heart that, without hope, yet does still know desire;
that, ever longing for this autumnal dying, 
after winter knows it’s spring... 

– Again my autumn blood burns in beseeching gestures;
again the heart weeps where the old wound sears ...
– How the gold of the chestnut trees is bronzing!
The silver aster blooms ...
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère