unfinished

begint een dag/ een dag is voorbij


begint een dag/ een dag is voorbij (English version: scroll down)
is this the new day or sundown behind stained glass windows?(*)

droefheid wordt wezenlijk anders, en schikt zich naar het getij.

opeens neemt melancholie zijn nieuwe gedaante aan.
alsof bladeren in de lente zouden vallen,

gelatenheid zonder oorsprong of bestemming. gaandeweg,

als bij wet, is blauw delftsblauw of diep grasgroen in de valleien.
de dag nadert waarop jij heel veel lief zal hebben. je vinger

vindt kalenderblaadjes die voor het oog niet zichtbaar zijn.

die niet zijn ingevuld, in deze tijdrekening, nu niet, morgen niet.
Godenkind, 09-01-2017
(*) Dutch version for this line still missing

ENGLISH VERSION:
new day dawning/ day’s ending
is this the new day or sundown behind stained glass windows?

sadness moves to a different level, and conforms to the tide.

all at once, melancholy takes on its new guise.
like leaves that would fall in springtime,

resignation without origin or destination. gradually,

and by default, blue is Delfts blue or green like the grass in the valleys.
here comes the day when you will offer lots of love. your finger

finds calendar sheets that are not visible to the eye.

which have not been updated, in this era, not now, not tomorrow.
Godenkind, 09-01-2017

I wrote this poem on an early morning, in January, it was the 9th of January, actually, when life did tend to be going nowhere. 

The original version was mixed Dutch/English (can you believe it, who does does such a thing?), but I added a genuine English version, for what it’s worth. My native language is Dutch.

Odd as it may seem, I still haven’t found a good Dutch opening line for the poem. I started out in English but switched to Dutch after the first line and then translated the entire poem. The thing is, Dutch for “stained windows” reads like ” gebrandschilderde ramen”, which sounds very awkward. I need a workaround here. Actually, in some ways, Dutch is a challenging language ☺.

BTW, how strange is it that old form factors like f.i. poetry still live on in quiet corners of cyberspace…

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