Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

B. Zwaal

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox
hidden is the time, the water is alive and saps

uprighted, the high trees hush,
the river, blinded by the water, flows

the high trees hush, the undergrowth
looks up questioningly
in whispers of the rustling

the trees hear their desire on the wind
to be from far away, from far to know

uprighted the high trees hush

het mergelt in het land, verscholen zit de vos

het mergelt in het land, verscholen zit de vos
verscholen zit de tijd, het water leeft en sloopt
 
vastopstaand, de hoge bomen zwijgen,
de rivier, verblind door water, stroomt
 
de hoge bomen zwijgen, het lage hout
in fluister van de ritseling kijkt
vragend op
 
de bomen horen in de wind wel hun verlangen
van ver te zijn, van ver te weten
 
vastopstaand de hoge bomen zwijgen
Close

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox
hidden is the time, the water is alive and saps

uprighted, the high trees hush,
the river, blinded by the water, flows

the high trees hush, the undergrowth
looks up questioningly
in whispers of the rustling

the trees hear their desire on the wind
to be from far away, from far to know

uprighted the high trees hush

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox

something marls the land, hidden sits the fox
hidden is the time, the water is alive and saps

uprighted, the high trees hush,
the river, blinded by the water, flows

the high trees hush, the undergrowth
looks up questioningly
in whispers of the rustling

the trees hear their desire on the wind
to be from far away, from far to know

uprighted the high trees hush
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