Poem

Hanny Michaelis

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Original language

Slowly but surely

Slowly but surely
day stretches its zebra’s neck
towards a copper sun.
Wind ruffles the wet
green hair of city parks,
unrolls a stark blue flag
above the roofs. Whoever sees this
has survived the night,
like it or not.

© Translation: 2009, Judith Wilkinson
Publisher: Earlier version published on www.languageandculture.net, , 2005

Langzaam maar zeker

Langzaam maar zeker
strekt de dag zijn zebrahals
naar een roodkoperen zon.
Wind woelt door het natte
groene haar van stadsplantsoenen,
ontrolt een hardblauwe vlag
boven de daken. Wie dit ziet
heeft de nacht overleefd
of hij wil of niet.

© 1996, Hanny Michaelis
From: Verzamelde Gedichten
Publisher: Uitgeverij G.A Van Oorschot, Amsterdam

Hanny Michaelis

Hanny Michaelis

(The Netherlands, 1922 - 2007)

Hanny Michaelis was born in 1922 in Amsterdam, and her small but distinctive oeuvre has been awarded numerous literary prizes. Michaelis established a reputation as a poet of contained lyricism, and her work is characteristically tempered by an almost wry awareness of limitation. While her poems are often marked by an epigrammatic conciseness and an element of detached and analytical reflection...

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Poems

Poems of Hanny Michaelis

This evening I learnt

Hanny Michaelis

A morning

Hanny Michaelis

Slowly but surely

Hanny Michaelis

Love rolled away

Hanny Michaelis

Tantalising uncertainty,

Hanny Michaelis

What it would have been like

Hanny Michaelis

Sometimes like gems

Hanny Michaelis

Stretched out on your back

Hanny Michaelis

In an unguarded moment

Hanny Michaelis

Years later

Hanny Michaelis

Close

Slowly but surely

Slowly but surely
day stretches its zebra’s neck
towards a copper sun.
Wind ruffles the wet
green hair of city parks,
unrolls a stark blue flag
above the roofs. Whoever sees this
has survived the night,
like it or not.

© 2009, Judith Wilkinson
From: Verzamelde Gedichten
Publisher: 2005, Earlier version published on www.languageandculture.net, Amsterdam

Slowly but surely

Slowly but surely
day stretches its zebra’s neck
towards a copper sun.
Wind ruffles the wet
green hair of city parks,
unrolls a stark blue flag
above the roofs. Whoever sees this
has survived the night,
like it or not.

© 2009, Judith Wilkinson
Publisher: 2005, Earlier version published on www.languageandculture.net,

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