Hans van de Waarsenburg
Hans van de Waarsenburg
melpomena The stillness of ashes In the open wounds of blossom and fresh green, the seal calls him. He sees the water grow hard as clear glass. A limping melancholy rainstorm bobbing on barren ground no longer saves anything. The doors banged closed. Wind rustles overhead. The vacuum expands. A dream of warmth and sorrow shatters against clear glass. Shrivels and withers to the stillness of ashes. Od "Selected poems (1980-2000)"
melpomena The negative of time In this hard land soft stone of seasons, where autumn is no longer accidental. The white linen cloth seems to have been lowered permanently on the face, mirrors out of the shadow grows daily colder. Until she takes her place: making visible what has been written, rubs herself into him with soft lips. The way you walk through the evening, he says then. The way you don't give a damn for the day finishes me. Awakens the pike in my tongue and the amoebe of your lips. Fighting all about me in naked skin against death. Not keeping a shred of shame, in this negative of time. Od "Selected poems (1980-2000)"
melpomena Lisbon Sometimes at night I dream of Lisbon Slack diary elapsing in sun Crumbling in outdoor cafes, white that Discolors fast, the steps now taken The mouth sealed, the parchment uvula A rippling, the disguising that you are. In vain the ship hauls up the bluntness inside Saudade dissolves in affectionate tide But the morning will not steer time Comfort you think, but it doesn’t Still inhaling sleep, with the first sun Sometimes at night I dream of Lisbon. Od "Selected poems (1980-2000)