martes, 3 de febrero de 2009

To Louk Hulsman

That he will
wake up
just before daybreak
pick up a book
some paper
and a pen
his glasses
comb his hair
and with his sandals
and short trousers
armed with a camera,
opens the door, leaves
and touches his garden
in a soft breeze
greets the birds
lifts his leg over the side
and his other leg
in his vest
and a thermos of tea
with his pocket-knife
cuts the lines
and slowly rises, dignified.
People become ants
cities, dots
roads, hairs
and lakes, drops
until he, so high,
higher than the birds,
soaring in the vast sky
how many miracles the world is
where all his friends live
softly floating
without any force and wind
free and flowing
on an unknown current
to again new
new ways of knowing

Jehanne Hulsman

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