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Gedicht

Meir Wieseltier

BURNING HOLY BOOKS

Holy books, said my friend, angry,
there’s no such thing. Books,
books: let them talk
to us about books.
It was a hot night.

    At noon light rips
through the room, and everything’s clear:
over the holy we’ll put a transparent
grid. From now on we’ll examine it
with a critical eye, we’ll see
the holy, crisscrossed through bars:
iron or a mathematical passion.

Will this make it look less
holy? Now it’s evening.
It could be a mistake,
our own.

But the grid should be placed there. With courage,
with care. It’s time to preserve
the wreck of holiness.


16.6.86

BURNING HOLY BOOKS

Meir  Wieseltier

Meir Wieseltier

(Rusland, 1941 - 2023)

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BURNING HOLY BOOKS

BURNING HOLY BOOKS

Holy books, said my friend, angry,
there’s no such thing. Books,
books: let them talk
to us about books.
It was a hot night.

    At noon light rips
through the room, and everything’s clear:
over the holy we’ll put a transparent
grid. From now on we’ll examine it
with a critical eye, we’ll see
the holy, crisscrossed through bars:
iron or a mathematical passion.

Will this make it look less
holy? Now it’s evening.
It could be a mistake,
our own.

But the grid should be placed there. With courage,
with care. It’s time to preserve
the wreck of holiness.


16.6.86
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