A song for the winter
Translation from a Dutch poem by Huub Oosterhuis
Published
Topic
Translations
No silver Mercedes,
No gold in the ground
Only a hand in my hand
And a heart 'gainst my heart
Winter; stand on the shore in leaky shoes
In a thin jumper or like tarred poles
Stamped with a number, unapproachable
Standing, waiting on the shore, a winter day
Look, see nothing, there's no horizon
A shadow shears nearby, close by, a bird wing
A seagull fishing on the foaming surge
Gliding and catching prey from the foaming waves
We are many, most of us tired, confused
Worn to the bone, don't know how to go on
No place where we can shelter
Behind us lies the old land, the cold planes.
Wealthy and poor, all of us exhausted
Tortoises, roebucks, serpents and greyhounds
The race is over, the tide mark is the limit.
No one leaps lightly over such a sea
Go, who dare go? How to go? Maybe not?
Who on one leg? Who risks it, upside down?
Who dives and swims low through the breakers?
Who, like a bottle, tossed into the sea?
Go, where to go? Naked or with clothes on?
Perhaps like seagulls, white-bodied and black-headed
Who glide and float upon the crest of waves,
Screeching, hoarse and shrill above the breakers:
No silver Mercedes,
No gold in the ground
Only a hand in my hand
And a heart 'gainst my heart
Who knows the password?
Who has a key here?
Something to eat?
Who has a dream, is homesick?
Who still recalls the song, 'The Lord's my shepherd'?
Someone begins to go, begins to sing:
No silver Mercedes,
No gold in the ground…
Someone sets out: a wolf, a shepherd
The little shrubs, the oak, the calamint
A rose is transformed into a branch of thorns
A young boy bears his father on his shoulders
Ten, twenty, go, or one, or hundred thousand
As if a song, a distant shore, exists
As if death were no more
The sea dissolved
Or salt did not sting wounds,
All sing together:
I need no course,
No course, no compass,
No beautiful house,
No silver Mercedes
No gold in the ground
Only a hand on my heart
And your face near mine
And two people together
And a harp and a flute
Like a woman and man,
And the mist-filled air,
Seen through the dawning light,
Over a new Amsterdam.
No silver Mercedes,
No gold in the ground,
Only a hand on my heart
And I know I am found.