Poem
Ed Leeflang
PEN
Their great songs are all set in minor.About their broken instruments
you cannot write. Or about
their empty green valleys
good for thousands of sheep
impassable because of landmines
that nobody will ever dig up
or about their burrows, half villages,
their smithereens and their holes.
Their great songs are all set in minor.
You know them. There lies your pen.
Again you have the heart not to touch it
to leave the evening the evening.
Hun grote liederen gaan in mineur.
Hun grote liederen gaan in mineur.
Over hun stukgeslagen instrumenten
kun je niet schrijven. En niet
over hun lege groene valleien
goed voor duizenden schapen
onbegaanbaar door mijnen
die geen sterveling op zal graven
niet over hun holen en halve dorpen
hun gruzelementen en gaten.
Hun grote liederen staan in mineur.
Die ken je. Je pen ligt op tafel.
Weer heb je het hart er af te blijven
de avond de avond te laten.
Over hun stukgeslagen instrumenten
kun je niet schrijven. En niet
over hun lege groene valleien
goed voor duizenden schapen
onbegaanbaar door mijnen
die geen sterveling op zal graven
niet over hun holen en halve dorpen
hun gruzelementen en gaten.
Hun grote liederen staan in mineur.
Die ken je. Je pen ligt op tafel.
Weer heb je het hart er af te blijven
de avond de avond te laten.
Poems
Poems of Ed Leeflang
Close
PEN
Their great songs are all set in minor.About their broken instruments
you cannot write. Or about
their empty green valleys
good for thousands of sheep
impassable because of landmines
that nobody will ever dig up
or about their burrows, half villages,
their smithereens and their holes.
Their great songs are all set in minor.
You know them. There lies your pen.
Again you have the heart not to touch it
to leave the evening the evening.
PEN
Their great songs are all set in minor.About their broken instruments
you cannot write. Or about
their empty green valleys
good for thousands of sheep
impassable because of landmines
that nobody will ever dig up
or about their burrows, half villages,
their smithereens and their holes.
Their great songs are all set in minor.
You know them. There lies your pen.
Again you have the heart not to touch it
to leave the evening the evening.
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