Poem

Elly de Waard

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Original language

Toward evening, when the shouting

Toward evening, when the shouting
of the day dies away and the beach
empties, the sea becomes calmer
gains a broad elongation
like a saturation
with all the noise that takes hold of you

and spreads out a gentle mist
like gray leather over everything

then sitting down in a forlorn
spot among the muted voices
and the rolling of the water
and then, and then again not
belonging to
the tide of both

Tegen de avond, als het gegil

Tegen de avond, als het gegil
van de dag wegsterft en het strand
leeg raakt, de zee kalmer wordt
met een brede langgerektheid
die zich als een verzadigdheid
van alle geluid van je meester maakt

en zich een zachte nevel
als grijs leder over alles uitspreidt

dan aan te schuiven op een verloren
zitplaats tussen de gedempte stemmen
en het deinen van het water
en bij het getij van beide
dan weer wel en dan weer niet
te horen

From: Anderling
Publisher: De Harmonie,

Elly de Waard

Elly de Waard

(The Netherlands, 1940)

Elly de Waard tested the literary waters in the late 1970s with two, rather subdued, collections: Afstand (Distance) and Luwte (Shelter). Her own poetic voice broke free in Furie (Fury, 1981), an outpouring of romantic longing and passion - 'Oh, panting, singing, we wage war, / inseparably incompatible' - which caused quite a stir , not less by its explicitly erotic treatment of Lesbian love, t...

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Poems of Elly de Waard

July and intolerably autumnal

Crash, breaking surf, blow oh unfathomable

montpellier

Darkness submerges our days

Only surrounded now

In an age in which poets

Toward evening, when the shouting

The sounds of the beach, of

The deep silence of a

The days are no better

Close

Toward evening, when the shouting

Toward evening, when the shouting
of the day dies away and the beach
empties, the sea becomes calmer
gains a broad elongation
like a saturation
with all the noise that takes hold of you

and spreads out a gentle mist
like gray leather over everything

then sitting down in a forlorn
spot among the muted voices
and the rolling of the water
and then, and then again not
belonging to
the tide of both

From: Anderling

Toward evening, when the shouting

Toward evening, when the shouting
of the day dies away and the beach
empties, the sea becomes calmer
gains a broad elongation
like a saturation
with all the noise that takes hold of you

and spreads out a gentle mist
like gray leather over everything

then sitting down in a forlorn
spot among the muted voices
and the rolling of the water
and then, and then again not
belonging to
the tide of both

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