In the museum, we look
at the attendants: a gangster
a beach girl with sleepy eyes
and a man who's almost falling
but he startles and hobbles away
to the hall with glass tombstones

We see people wait
gloomily, enjoy
a cigar at the end
suppress the disaster at the piano
with a smile, scream to win
their case with their husbands

or cry and jump in
the lifeboats sauve qui peut
(la vie)

Pee carefully, girls on one side
The boys do it the farthest and nonchalantly

We sit in the gutter, how my buttocks ache!
Jerome pushes up himself, he just can not hold on no more

inclined backwards he leans upon the tiles
of the roof, but doing so his legs get tired

His mother is worried, so she begs, entreats
him: boy, take care, what if the bracket breaks?

Then, then, well, then your body will be doomed
Oh my dear boy, then I will also die of grief

But soon enough he sits astride upon the ridge
and downstairs strikes the clock again, what time it is

It takes some wrangle till René gets almost nude
He plunges in the house and grabs a lot of food

the greens are washed, the pizzas flabby, hard the wurst
A feast for all, along with drinks to quench the thirst

we are in need of water and there's no boat, oh why?
Come, action action action, otherwise we die!

In the Rijksmuseum I explain
the Night Watch. The curator keeps
asking questions. But what do I know?

Jane has no doubt, she says:
Once you see it
you should also dare

to know it. That three year old girl
who is mixing pigments
in Rembrandt's studio

and has painted herself
behind huge peacocks, that
is you, his daughter

and secret student, who was aching
for his love and with his death married
out of necessity and for the sake of art

her comrade Arent
the two of them painting
under his name

Jij op jouw balkon
met een herinnering
een mooie herinnering
een mooie avond, stilte
jij op het balkon, ik in de kamer

schemerende nevels een gloed
over de stad, zoals toen

je wakker werd uit de roes
verkleumd en klam
een paar mannen nog
aan het vissen, de geur
van de wijde kleine wereld

van grondmist, die sfeer
die zomaar over jaren heen stapt
van dat gras naar dit balkon
een herinnering om te delen
over dagelijkse zorgen heen

He dressed you in underwear
lightly twisted the left foot
then compromised the leg

I stopped for a few seconds
because where did the idea come from
that you might be the same

You both stare through me
so independently and quietly
what is there to see in my soul?

I was looking for a difference
you look so much like her
by then, the window dresser was ready

It doesn't matter
to the people in the street
that I look at them
if I exist

there is no need
to help me out
through the window

waiting, tired of waiting
back in the chair
back in time

lost in possibilities
of old summery desires
to be touched by you
while the horse is snorting

your innocence
unconscious and untouched
by my fantasy

your boredom
that seduces women
and keeps me awake

as I rewrite notebooks full
of poems, to have them tasted
by your blushing lips
in the afternoon hammock

But I don't want that anymore

A lot has changed, old wishes
have been passed for new
circumstances and memories

remained the way it was
I cherish what we shared
satisfied with what is nearby

We were close and now we search for a hold
as strangers who cannot stay long
from mutual awkwardness

Do we still know each other
and do we want to make a new start
or should we move then?

Let's celebrate who we were
let's celebrate who we are
and embrace each other intimately

Events flow through my head
faucets spontaneously spray
memories over my feet
Frogs jump out of the pool

What seemed so ordinary
is now demonstrating
and keeping me awake
Smashing the window panes

I hide behind the lace curtain
Shadows beat the drum
They live on the street
and declare me guilty

I am no longer safe
from the straight faces
and the doubts of my family
They slink through the house

I strayed off
no weeds over here
time rushes by
on a busy track

Full trains without me!
replaced by another
I hope for my colleagues

Don't worry
we'll be fine
you do look very good
you are free!

Wagons of words!
I am alone here!
On raked paths