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Poem

H.H. ter Balkt

SINGRAVEN CASTLE

St. Albans Grand Steeple Chase charged in here
Under trees that are not the living ones
On Singraven’s waterside and in the autumnal woods.
It is not eighteen thirty-two and it is not March.
 
Lamp with seven ears of copper corn
Forged in the Rococo period, its flowers
Of copper, completely oblivious to the puff ball
that gushes swarms of racing cyclists.
 
Light hardened with the craquelure of the year
shivers through clouds, duckweed; autumn crocus.
Long live the flights of swans, long live the streams.
 
The watermill’s wheel groans like wooden steps.
Hop cones blanch as greenish-yellow as the eighteenth century.
Soon September rains will calmly erase the view.

SINGRAVEN

SINGRAVEN

St. Albans ‘Grand Steeple Chase’ jacht hier binnen
onder andere bomen dan de levende
aan Singravens water, en in ’t herfstig bos.
Het is niet achttientweeëndertig en niet maart.

Lampje met zeven koperen korenaren
gesmeed in de rococo eeuw en van koper
zijn bloemen, heeft geen flauw benul van de stuifzwam
die watervlugge zwermen wielrenners uitstoot.

’t Licht verbitterde craquelé van het jaar
siddert door de wolk, het kroos; de herfsttijlozen.
Leve de zwanenvluchten, leve de beken.

Het watermolenrad kreunt als houten treden.
Hopbellen bleek groengeel als de achttiende eeuw.
Septemberregen wist straks vredig het zicht uit.
Close

SINGRAVEN CASTLE

St. Albans Grand Steeple Chase charged in here
Under trees that are not the living ones
On Singraven’s waterside and in the autumnal woods.
It is not eighteen thirty-two and it is not March.
 
Lamp with seven ears of copper corn
Forged in the Rococo period, its flowers
Of copper, completely oblivious to the puff ball
that gushes swarms of racing cyclists.
 
Light hardened with the craquelure of the year
shivers through clouds, duckweed; autumn crocus.
Long live the flights of swans, long live the streams.
 
The watermill’s wheel groans like wooden steps.
Hop cones blanch as greenish-yellow as the eighteenth century.
Soon September rains will calmly erase the view.

SINGRAVEN CASTLE

St. Albans Grand Steeple Chase charged in here
Under trees that are not the living ones
On Singraven’s waterside and in the autumnal woods.
It is not eighteen thirty-two and it is not March.
 
Lamp with seven ears of copper corn
Forged in the Rococo period, its flowers
Of copper, completely oblivious to the puff ball
that gushes swarms of racing cyclists.
 
Light hardened with the craquelure of the year
shivers through clouds, duckweed; autumn crocus.
Long live the flights of swans, long live the streams.
 
The watermill’s wheel groans like wooden steps.
Hop cones blanch as greenish-yellow as the eighteenth century.
Soon September rains will calmly erase the view.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère