Joris Iven

HEIST-AAN-ZEE

(THE WATERSHED)

 

 

1   Looking back

 

 

 

The marram grass in the dunes bends almost double

In the wind, eastwards towards the house

Of my youth, which now stands empty by the sea,

Getting more dilapidated every day:

The woodworm gnaws in the beams, which bend

Like grass under an invisible load,

And sand trickles through the network of thin laths,

Like the dust from worm-eaten wood;

The day is cold in years and my youth drops,

Like the waves beyond the house in the dunes,

With a soft murmur.

 

 

 

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