Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Elly de Waard

Now all the dust has settled

Now all the dust has settled
and each has withdrawn
into each one’s sorrow, into a not complaining

but into acceptance, certainly not,
now the only thing that knocks at night
is my heart so wild yet without fever and

my sleep is overrun by dreams
while I lie as on a bed
that is electrified and from which

I keep bolting awake.
The waning moon lies like
a little shell in the sandy

clouds of the morning, one shell
that has been fitfully laid bare and that
shines pearlescent. And unhappiness

doesn’t last a lifetime
and over us spans one and the same
sky that also offers us another chance.

Nu al het stof is neergeslagen

Nu al het stof is neergeslagen
en elk zich teruggetrokken heeft
op zijn verdriet, in een niet klagen

maar in aanvaarden zeker niet,
nu klopt alleen nog in de nacht
mijn hart zo wild en koortsloos en

van dromen over loopt mijn slaap
terwijl ik lig als op een bed
dat onder stroom staat en waaruit

ik telkens wakker schiet.
De afnemende maan ligt als
een schelpje in de zanderige

wolken van de ochtend, één schelp
die blootgewoeld is en die
parelachtig glanst. En ongeluk

duurt niet een leven lang
en over ons welft zich eenzelfde
hemel die ook ons herkansing biedt.
Close

Now all the dust has settled

Now all the dust has settled
and each has withdrawn
into each one’s sorrow, into a not complaining

but into acceptance, certainly not,
now the only thing that knocks at night
is my heart so wild yet without fever and

my sleep is overrun by dreams
while I lie as on a bed
that is electrified and from which

I keep bolting awake.
The waning moon lies like
a little shell in the sandy

clouds of the morning, one shell
that has been fitfully laid bare and that
shines pearlescent. And unhappiness

doesn’t last a lifetime
and over us spans one and the same
sky that also offers us another chance.

Now all the dust has settled

Now all the dust has settled
and each has withdrawn
into each one’s sorrow, into a not complaining

but into acceptance, certainly not,
now the only thing that knocks at night
is my heart so wild yet without fever and

my sleep is overrun by dreams
while I lie as on a bed
that is electrified and from which

I keep bolting awake.
The waning moon lies like
a little shell in the sandy

clouds of the morning, one shell
that has been fitfully laid bare and that
shines pearlescent. And unhappiness

doesn’t last a lifetime
and over us spans one and the same
sky that also offers us another chance.
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