Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

J. Slauerhoff

IN MEMORIAM MYSELF

By enemies hemmed in,
With ‘friends in need’ who’ve fled
Rank meat that stinks like sin,
I laugh, toss back my head,
Though torn to shreds within,
My body all but dead.

Each day my life was crossed
By new adversity.
Good reaped iniquity;
I paid a heavy cost,
But now the battle’s lost
I fight on doggedly.

Snow, ice envelop me,
The bodies are piled high
Of those who crazily
Pursued my inner ‘I’,
Once bright as ‘gay Paree’,
Now polar, frozen, dry.

I leave no last bequest,
Smash life’s work at a stroke;
No mercy I request,
Curse past and future folk;
Stand tall where they now rest,
And treat death as a joke.

I look fate in the eye,
Have said not one goodbye,
But want men when I die
To say just this of me:
‘He did good very ill,
Served bad with honest will,
Succumbed while battling still,
Undaunted, lived his fill,
Intolerant and free.’

IN MEMORIAM MIJZELF

IN MEMORIAM MIJZELF

Door vijanden omringd,
Door vrienden in den nood
Geschuwd als aas dat stinkt,
Houd ik mij lachend groot,
Al is mijn ziel verminkt,
Mijn lijf voor driekwart dood.

In ’t leven was geen dag
Ooit zonder tegenspoed.
Ik leed kwaad en deed goed;
Dat is een hard gelag.
Nu, in verloren slag,
Strijd ik met starren moed.

Bedekt met sneeuw en ijs,
Getooid door menig lijk
Van wie de dwaze reis
Deed naar mijn innerlijk,
Eens vroeg licht als Parijs
Nu ’t poolgebied gelijk.

Ik laat geen gaven na,
Verniel wat ik volbracht;
Ik vraag om geen gena,
Vloek voor- en nageslacht;
Zij liggen waar ik sta,
Lachend den dood verwacht.

Ik deins niet voor de grens,
Nam afscheid van geen mensch,
Toch heb ik nog een wensch,
Dat men mij na zal geven:
‘Het goede deed hij slecht,
Beleed het kwaad oprecht,
Hij stierf in het gevecht,
Hij leidde recht en slecht
Een onverdraagzaam leven.’
Close

IN MEMORIAM MYSELF

By enemies hemmed in,
With ‘friends in need’ who’ve fled
Rank meat that stinks like sin,
I laugh, toss back my head,
Though torn to shreds within,
My body all but dead.

Each day my life was crossed
By new adversity.
Good reaped iniquity;
I paid a heavy cost,
But now the battle’s lost
I fight on doggedly.

Snow, ice envelop me,
The bodies are piled high
Of those who crazily
Pursued my inner ‘I’,
Once bright as ‘gay Paree’,
Now polar, frozen, dry.

I leave no last bequest,
Smash life’s work at a stroke;
No mercy I request,
Curse past and future folk;
Stand tall where they now rest,
And treat death as a joke.

I look fate in the eye,
Have said not one goodbye,
But want men when I die
To say just this of me:
‘He did good very ill,
Served bad with honest will,
Succumbed while battling still,
Undaunted, lived his fill,
Intolerant and free.’

IN MEMORIAM MYSELF

By enemies hemmed in,
With ‘friends in need’ who’ve fled
Rank meat that stinks like sin,
I laugh, toss back my head,
Though torn to shreds within,
My body all but dead.

Each day my life was crossed
By new adversity.
Good reaped iniquity;
I paid a heavy cost,
But now the battle’s lost
I fight on doggedly.

Snow, ice envelop me,
The bodies are piled high
Of those who crazily
Pursued my inner ‘I’,
Once bright as ‘gay Paree’,
Now polar, frozen, dry.

I leave no last bequest,
Smash life’s work at a stroke;
No mercy I request,
Curse past and future folk;
Stand tall where they now rest,
And treat death as a joke.

I look fate in the eye,
Have said not one goodbye,
But want men when I die
To say just this of me:
‘He did good very ill,
Served bad with honest will,
Succumbed while battling still,
Undaunted, lived his fill,
Intolerant and free.’
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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
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