It motyf foar metaforyk
Hjerstdeis bist graach ûnder de beammen,
Omdat alles dan healdea is.
De wyn ferweecht mankjend tusken de blêden
En werhellet wurden sûnder betsjutting.
Allyksa wiest bliid yn de maitiid,
Mei de heale kleuren fan fearnsdingen,
De justjes klearder loft, de teiende wolken,
De iene fûgel, de ferhoalen moanne –
De ferhoalen moanne dy’t in ferhoalen wrâld beskynde
Fan dingen dy’t nea alhiel útdrukt wurde soenen,
Wêr’tst sels net alhiel dysels wiest
En net wêze woest of moast,
Langjend nei de freugden om feroarings:
It motyf foar metaforyk, it ûntwynt
It gewicht fan de earste klok fan tolven,
It A B C fan it bestean,
De rosse obsternatens, de hammer
Fan read en blau, it hurde lûd –
Stiel tsjin wink – de skerpe flits,
De fitale, arrogante, fatale, dominante X.
The Motive for Metaphor
You like it under the trees in autumn,
Because everything is half dead.
The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves
And repeats words without meaning.
In the same way, you were happy in spring,
With the half colors of quarter-things,
The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds,
The single bird, the obscure moon –
The obscure moon lighting an obscure world
Of things that would never be quite expressed,
Where you yourself were not quite yourself,
And did not want nor have to be,
Desiring the exhilarations of changes:
The motive for metaphor, shrinking from
The weight of primary noon,
The A B C of being,
The ruddy temper, the hammer
Of red and blue, the hard sound –
Steel against intimation – the sharp flash,
The vital, arrogant, fatal, dominant X.
Ut Transport to Summer, 1947