Once again the longest day
had come and gone. The shortening of the days was hardly perceptible as yet,
but we knew it - this summer, too, would pass. Once again the day had come to
an end ; once again the fiery red of the sky paled above the horizon, the water
in the distance just kept its color, darkness crept up out of the earth once
more, the canal in the distance had disappeared in the night. We were very sad
about all the things which were gone, and about our lives, which would also
have to end if all these things remained unaltered. For a few more times we
would see the days lengthen ; and then we would no longer be young. And after
the white and red chestnut trees had flowered a few more times we would die,
in the prime of life, or perhaps as frail old men, which would be even worse.
And again sky would be red, and the canal would no doubt still be there too,
yellow in the twilight, and they would know nothing about it.
Mene Tekel. In
: 'The literary review'. Netherlands number. Winter 1961-1962. p. 183-187. Vertaling
door Roy Edwards.
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