Thursday, January 28, 2016

28 January ,departure of Tinie and Francois

De Wolken

Ik droeg nog kleine kleren ,en ik lag
Lang - uit  met moeder in de warme hei ,
De wolken schoven boven ons voorbij
En moeder vroeg wat ik in de wolken zag.

En ik riep: Scandinavië, en : eenden
Daar gaat een dame,schapen met een herder,-
De wond'ren werden woord en dreven verder,
Maar 'k zag dat moeder met een glimlach weende

Toen kwam de tijd dat 'k niet meer naar boven keek,
Ofschoon de hemel vol wolken hing
Ik greep niet naar de vlucht van 't vreemde ding
Dat met zijn schaduw langs mijn leven streek

-Nu ligt mijn jongen naast mij in de heide,
En wijst me wat hij in de wolken ziet,
Nu schrei ik zelf ,en zie in het verschiet
De verse wolken waarom moeder schreide 

Martinus Nijhoff

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

12 januari,2016 Snowflakes

A walk

By R.M Rilke

Translation Robert Bly

My eyes already touch the sunny hill
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light,even from a distance-

and changes us,even if we do not reach it,
into something else,which hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave....
but what we feel is only the wind in our faces

Friday, January 1, 2016

1 january ,2016

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intend
To be lost that their loss is no disaster

Lose something every day,accept the fluster
Of lost door keys ,the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther,losing faster;
places,and names,and where it was you meant to travel
None of these will bring disaster

I lost my mothers watch.And look!my last ,or
next -to- last,of three loved houses went
The art of losing isn't hard to master

I lost two cities,lovely ones.And vaster,
some realms I owned,two rivers,a continent
I miss them,but it wasn't a disaster.

-Even losing you( the joking voice,a gesture
I loved) I shan't have lied.Its evident
The art of losing isn't hard to master
Though it may look(write it !)like disaster

Elisabeth Bishop

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

29 December 2015. snow storm

La nuit n'est jamais complète

Ilya toujours puisque je le dis

Puisque je l'affirme

Au bout du chagrin une fenêtre ouverte

Une fenêtre éclairée

Ilya toujours un rêve qui veille

Désir à combler faim à satisfaire

Un cœur généreux

Une main tendue une main ouverte

Des yeux attentif

Une vie la vie à se partager

Paul Eluard


Friday, December 11, 2015

11,December 2015


"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without words -
And never stops -at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale -is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little bird -
That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest lands -
And on the strangest sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity -
It asked a crumb - of me

Emily Dickinson 

Monday, December 7, 2015

7 december,2015

Make visible ,what,without you might perhaps never have been seen

Robert Bresson

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Saterday,28 november,2015

"J'ai reconnu le bonheur au bruit qu'il a fait en partant"
Jacques Prévert