Polderland

I walk through the polderland
beneath the slanting rain;
unending is this land,
unending are the ways,

that to the horizons go;
in the region of low heavens
between the small streams black
rules the misty light of the moon,

o, land of thirty rivers,
the people that inhabit you
grow somber in the quarrelling
that divides money and God,
purple rank and crown of the thorns.

unending is this land,
unending are the ways,
that to the horizons go;
I walk to greet the morning
under the misty light of the moon.
(Contributed by Rozita on Thursday, February 10th, 2011)
 
See All Poetry

 

Also By Hendrik Marsman

 

European Literature

Dutch Literature