Time

An unique collaboration between one of our followers and ourselfs. We translated a poem, she made the artwork for the poem. Thanks to Veronika Purplesfinx we present the translation of the Dutch poem Tijd (Time) by M. Vasalis.

A few weeks ago, we translated the poem Droom (Dream) by this Dutch poetess. We asked Veronika if she would be so kind to share her creativity, when we send her the poem. The outcome is simply amazing.

Veronika not only writes poetry, she makes her own illustrations. She did so for this poem. We cannot express our gratitude for this. We will be posting more of her work in the future, definitely!

Time

By M. Vasalis
Illustration: Veronika Purplesfinx

Time

I dreamt, that I lived slowly…
slower than the oldest rock.
It was terrible: around me
everything was in a hurry, shook an trembled,
what seemed quiet. I saw the urge which made
trees twisted from the earth
while they huskily and brokenly sang;
while seasons flew past
scattering like rainbows…
I saw the tremor of the ocean,
his swelling and slink down hastily,
like a big throat could drink.
And the day and night of short duration
flaming and fading: flaming fire.
– The despair and eloquence
in the gestures of things,
who otherwise are rigid, and their jostle,
their breathless, cruel contestation…
How could I not known this before,
not better see it in the past?
How must I ever forget?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tijd

Door M. Vasalis
Illustration:
Veronika Purplesfinx

Tijd

Ik droomde, dat ik langzaam leefde ….
langzamer dan de oudste steen.
Het was verschrikkelijk: om mij heen
schoot alles op, schokte of beefde,
wat stil lijkt. ‘k Zag de drang waarmee
de bomen zich uit de aarde wrongen
terwijl ze hees en hortend zongen;
terwijl de jaargetijden vlogen
verkleurende als regenbogen …..
Ik zag de tremor van de zee,
zijn zwellen en weer haastig slinken,
zoals een grote keel kan drinken.
En dag en nacht van korte duur
vlammen en doven: flakkrend vuur.
– De wanhoop en welsprekendheid
in de gebaren van de dingen,
die anders star zijn, en hun dringen,
hun ademloze, wrede strijd ….
Hoe kón ik dat niet eerder weten,
niet beter zien in vroeger tijd ?
Hoe moet ik het weer ooit vergeten ?

 

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