I would like to remind you of when we were walking on the right bank,

it was almost night and both of us found the left bank more beautiful.

In the distance a light gleamed beneath the branches of a willow

and I thought that it was a fountain. ‘What?’ you said, ‘do you really

think a spring can well up in midstream?’ We imagined

that blocks of flats were cathedrals. Amsterdam was a vision

that lay far ahead of us. In the dark-blue clouds the lights of planes

were now flickering. I indulged in magnificent, riotous flights of fancy.

The most beautiful spot was that which lay farthest from us.



· Naar introductiepagina

· Bloemlezing eigen  poëzie

· Vertalingen eigen  poëzie

· Vertalingen

· Essays

· Toneel

Joris Iven