Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Guido Gezelle

SLEEPING BUDS

                      Performed imperfectly,
conceived, not duly born; 
                      not found entirely,
entirely not forlorn, 
                      thus lies many a rhyme
biding, unripe in me, 
                      the pleasurable time
of speakability. 

                      Thus sleep the bushes’ buds,
recondite and concealed; 
                      no flower yet unfurled,
no leaf till now revealed; 
                      but leaf and flower lie,
embedded eagerly 
                      biding the day, the dawn . . .
the full parturiency.

SLAPENDE BOTTEN

SLAPENDE BOTTEN

                Ten halven afgewrocht,
ontvangen, niet geboren; 
                gevonden algeheel,
noch algeheel verloren, 
                zoo ligt er menig rijm
onvast in mij, en beidt 
                den aangenamen tijd
van volle uitspreekbaarheid. 


                Zoo slaapt de botte in \'t hout,
verdonkerd en verdoken; 
                geen blomme en is er ooit,
geen blad eruit gebroken; 
                maar blad en blomme en al,
het ligt erin, en beidt 
                den dag, den dageraad …
de barensveerdigheid.
Close

SLEEPING BUDS

                      Performed imperfectly,
conceived, not duly born; 
                      not found entirely,
entirely not forlorn, 
                      thus lies many a rhyme
biding, unripe in me, 
                      the pleasurable time
of speakability. 

                      Thus sleep the bushes’ buds,
recondite and concealed; 
                      no flower yet unfurled,
no leaf till now revealed; 
                      but leaf and flower lie,
embedded eagerly 
                      biding the day, the dawn . . .
the full parturiency.

SLEEPING BUDS

                      Performed imperfectly,
conceived, not duly born; 
                      not found entirely,
entirely not forlorn, 
                      thus lies many a rhyme
biding, unripe in me, 
                      the pleasurable time
of speakability. 

                      Thus sleep the bushes’ buds,
recondite and concealed; 
                      no flower yet unfurled,
no leaf till now revealed; 
                      but leaf and flower lie,
embedded eagerly 
                      biding the day, the dawn . . .
the full parturiency.
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