Herinnering aan Holland
Denkend aan Holland
zie ik breede rivieren
traag door oneindig
laagland gaan,
rijen ondenkbaar
ijle populieren
als hooge pluimen
aan den einder staan;
en in de geweldige
ruimte verzonken
de boerderijen
verspreid door het land,
boomgroepen, dorpen
geknotte torens,
kerken en olmen,
in een grootsch verband.
De lucht hangt er laag
en de zon wordt er langzaam
in grijze veelkleurige
dampen gesmoord,
en in alle gewesten
wordt de stem van het water
met zijn eeuwige rampen
gevreesd en gehoord.
Hendrik Marsman (1899-1940)
copyright: Uitgeverij Querido
Denkend aan Holland
zie ik breede rivieren
traag door oneindig
laagland gaan,
rijen ondenkbaar
ijle populieren
als hooge pluimen
aan den einder staan;
en in de geweldige
ruimte verzonken
de boerderijen
verspreid door het land,
boomgroepen, dorpen
geknotte torens,
kerken en olmen,
in een grootsch verband.
De lucht hangt er laag
en de zon wordt er langzaam
in grijze veelkleurige
dampen gesmoord,
en in alle gewesten
wordt de stem van het water
met zijn eeuwige rampen
gevreesd en gehoord.
Hendrik Marsman (1899-1940)
copyright: Uitgeverij Querido
Jury report for the translation of 'Herinnering aan Holland' by H. Marsman
The prize for the first year of the David Reid Poetry Translation Prize goes to Paul Vincent. His translation was also the only one to be short-listed by all three preliminary judges. It stands out for its naturalness and the unbroken flow of its rhythm. He has found unforced solutions for the main difficulties, and a couple of these solutions were very pleasing. Crucially Paul Vincent's version captures the mood of Marsman's poem, the deep affection for his country that is its hallmark. If empathy with the material is a key to a good translation of a poem, this version is a winner.
I am proposing Renée Delhez as the only runner-up. I liked her version for its honesty and its faithfulness to the original. While making a genuine poem in English, she has shown great respect for the detail and pacing of Marsman's text and has captured its rhythm very effectively.
Donald Gardner, October 2006
on behalf of the jury
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide-flowing rivers
slowly traversing
infinite plains,
inconceivably
rarefied poplars
like lofty plumes
on the skyline in lanes;
and submerged in the vastness
of unbounded spaces
the farmhouses
strewn over the land,
tree clumps, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees -
all wondrously planned.
The sky hangs low
and slowly the sun by
mists of all colours
is stifled and greyed
and in all the regions
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © Paul Vincent, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide-flowing rivers
slowly traversing
infinite plains,
inconceivably
rarefied poplars
like lofty plumes
on the skyline in lanes;
and submerged in the vastness
of unbounded spaces
the farmhouses
strewn over the land,
tree clumps, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees -
all wondrously planned.
The sky hangs low
and slowly the sun by
mists of all colours
is stifled and greyed
and in all the regions
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © Paul Vincent, 2006
Memories of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see broad lazy rivers
flowing through infinite
low-lying land,
rows of incredibly
delicate poplars
like plumy feathers
on the horizon, and
sunken and small in this
space so stupendous
the farmhouses
scattered about,
clumps of trees, villages,
squat stumpy towers,
churches and elm trees,
in one grand layout.
The skies hang low
and grey, multicoloured
mists slowly make the
sun disappear,
and in every region
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is heard and is feared.
Translation: © Renée Delhez, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see broad lazy rivers
flowing through infinite
low-lying land,
rows of incredibly
delicate poplars
like plumy feathers
on the horizon, and
sunken and small in this
space so stupendous
the farmhouses
scattered about,
clumps of trees, villages,
squat stumpy towers,
churches and elm trees,
in one grand layout.
The skies hang low
and grey, multicoloured
mists slowly make the
sun disappear,
and in every region
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is heard and is feared.
Translation: © Renée Delhez, 2006
Remembering Holland
Thinking of Holland:
I see broad rivers
flowing slowly through the boundless lowlands.
Lines of impossibly slender poplars,
stretch out to the horizon,
like tall feathered crests.
Submerged in that colossal void
are farmsteads scattered on the soil,
knots of trees,
pollarded steeples, towers and elm,
in grandiose conjunction.
Where the clouds lower, the sun
is slowly stifled
in a grey and motley mugginess.
And everywhere they hear and fear
eternal tribulations
in the voices of the waters.
Translation: © Sen McGlinn, 2006
Thinking of Holland:
I see broad rivers
flowing slowly through the boundless lowlands.
Lines of impossibly slender poplars,
stretch out to the horizon,
like tall feathered crests.
Submerged in that colossal void
are farmsteads scattered on the soil,
knots of trees,
pollarded steeples, towers and elm,
in grandiose conjunction.
Where the clouds lower, the sun
is slowly stifled
in a grey and motley mugginess.
And everywhere they hear and fear
eternal tribulations
in the voices of the waters.
Translation: © Sen McGlinn, 2006
Recollection of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers going
a slow pace through
endless low land,
rows of unthinkable
slender poplars
as tall plumes on
horizon's end;
and in the enormous
space absorbed
the farmhouses
spread over realm,
in great connection
groups of trees, villages
truncated towers,
churches and elm.
Low hangs the air
and the sun is in
grey variegated
smoke smothered inert,
and in every province
the voice of the water
with ever disaster
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © Jean Hellwig, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers going
a slow pace through
endless low land,
rows of unthinkable
slender poplars
as tall plumes on
horizon's end;
and in the enormous
space absorbed
the farmhouses
spread over realm,
in great connection
groups of trees, villages
truncated towers,
churches and elm.
Low hangs the air
and the sun is in
grey variegated
smoke smothered inert,
and in every province
the voice of the water
with ever disaster
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © Jean Hellwig, 2006
Holland memories
Thinking about it
I see grand rivers
easy going by
infinite lowlands,
rows of imaginable
fragile Populars
like very tall plucks
rise on to the horizon;
and in this tremendous
space lie deeply sunk
the farms
spread over the land
treeclans, villages,
knotted towers,
churches and olms,
in one great bond.
The sky is low where
the sun slowly suffocates
in coloured gray damps,
and in all provinces
the moist voice of water
with it's eternal disaster
Is feard and is heard.
Translation: © Renate Marlis, 2006
Thinking about it
I see grand rivers
easy going by
infinite lowlands,
rows of imaginable
fragile Populars
like very tall plucks
rise on to the horizon;
and in this tremendous
space lie deeply sunk
the farms
spread over the land
treeclans, villages,
knotted towers,
churches and olms,
in one great bond.
The sky is low where
the sun slowly suffocates
in coloured gray damps,
and in all provinces
the moist voice of water
with it's eternal disaster
Is feard and is heard.
Translation: © Renate Marlis, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
winding through infinite
low-lying land,
rows of poplars
mark the horizon,
too wispy for words,
like tall plumes they stand;
and deeply entrenched
in the vastness,
farms country-wide
in this space recline,
villages, tree clusters,
turrets truncated,
churches and elms,
in a grand design.
The air hangs low
and the sun is slowly
smothered in vapours -
grey - motley - stirred -
and in every district
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Judith Wilkinson, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
winding through infinite
low-lying land,
rows of poplars
mark the horizon,
too wispy for words,
like tall plumes they stand;
and deeply entrenched
in the vastness,
farms country-wide
in this space recline,
villages, tree clusters,
turrets truncated,
churches and elms,
in a grand design.
The air hangs low
and the sun is slowly
smothered in vapours -
grey - motley - stirred -
and in every district
the voice of the water
with its endless disasters
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Judith Wilkinson, 2006
Memorie of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly flowing through
a never ending lowland,
rows of unimaginably
transparent poplars
standing like high plumes
on the horizon;
and farms sunk deeply
in the unceasing distances,
spread through the land,
groups of trees, villages,
curtailed spires,
churches and elms
in one gigantic link.
The sky hangs low
and the sun here is
slowly quenched by gray
multi colored mists
and in every region
we hear the feared
voice of the water
with its eternal calamities.
Translation: © Theo van Kooten, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly flowing through
a never ending lowland,
rows of unimaginably
transparent poplars
standing like high plumes
on the horizon;
and farms sunk deeply
in the unceasing distances,
spread through the land,
groups of trees, villages,
curtailed spires,
churches and elms
in one gigantic link.
The sky hangs low
and the sun here is
slowly quenched by gray
multi colored mists
and in every region
we hear the feared
voice of the water
with its eternal calamities.
Translation: © Theo van Kooten, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
flowing slowly
through low-lying land,
distant rows of implausibly
wispy poplars
like feathers set
there by a giant's hand;
and sunk in that
tremendous space,
the lonely farms
in the countryside,
copses and villages,
lopped-off towers,
churches and elm trees,
apart yet unified.
the skies are low
and banks of grey,
iridescent mist
smother the sun,
and the awesome frightening
voice of the water,
with its eternal disasters,
is heard by everyone.
Translation: © David Colmer, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
flowing slowly
through low-lying land,
distant rows of implausibly
wispy poplars
like feathers set
there by a giant's hand;
and sunk in that
tremendous space,
the lonely farms
in the countryside,
copses and villages,
lopped-off towers,
churches and elm trees,
apart yet unified.
the skies are low
and banks of grey,
iridescent mist
smother the sun,
and the awesome frightening
voice of the water,
with its eternal disasters,
is heard by everyone.
Translation: © David Colmer, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
wide rivers I see
flowing slowly through
unending lowland,
rows of unthinkably
tall-standing poplars
like huge feather plumes
on the horizon;
and in the wondrous
space are hidden
the farms
spread over the land,
tree groups, towns,
great knotted towers,
churches and elms
all in one union.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun is slowly
smothered
in grey colourful mists
and from all quarters
the voice of the water
with its everlasting disasters
heard and feared.
Translation: © Sanna McGregor, 2006 (age 12)
Thinking of Holland
wide rivers I see
flowing slowly through
unending lowland,
rows of unthinkably
tall-standing poplars
like huge feather plumes
on the horizon;
and in the wondrous
space are hidden
the farms
spread over the land,
tree groups, towns,
great knotted towers,
churches and elms
all in one union.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun is slowly
smothered
in grey colourful mists
and from all quarters
the voice of the water
with its everlasting disasters
heard and feared.
Translation: © Sanna McGregor, 2006 (age 12)
Mindful of Holland
Thinking on Holland
I see wide rivers
flowing slowly
through an endless map,
high rows of surprising
poplars plying –
feathers at the edge
of the horizon's nap;
and in the pouring
space, deep-lying
farmsteads drift
through distances –
copses, villages,
nubs of towers,
churches, elm-trees –
ancient intricacies.
Low-hanging light here,
the sun gradually
in mist's grey difference
being smothered, obscured,
and in all the counties
the voice of the water
repeating disaster
being feared, overheard.
Translation: © Chris McCully, 2006
Thinking on Holland
I see wide rivers
flowing slowly
through an endless map,
high rows of surprising
poplars plying –
feathers at the edge
of the horizon's nap;
and in the pouring
space, deep-lying
farmsteads drift
through distances –
copses, villages,
nubs of towers,
churches, elm-trees –
ancient intricacies.
Low-hanging light here,
the sun gradually
in mist's grey difference
being smothered, obscured,
and in all the counties
the voice of the water
repeating disaster
being feared, overheard.
Translation: © Chris McCully, 2006
Remembering Holland
Musing on Holland
I see generous rivers
crawling through infinite
fields of low,
lines of incredibly
tall poplar trees,
like high plumes
standing in a row;
and sunken in
the tremendous space
the farmhouses
spread across the land,
tree groups and hamlets
pollarded towers,
churches and elm trees,
in a mighty plan.
The sky is low
and the sun is slowly
smothered by
a multicolour grey,
and in every corner
the call of the water
with its eternal plagues
is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © C.B., 2006
Musing on Holland
I see generous rivers
crawling through infinite
fields of low,
lines of incredibly
tall poplar trees,
like high plumes
standing in a row;
and sunken in
the tremendous space
the farmhouses
spread across the land,
tree groups and hamlets
pollarded towers,
churches and elm trees,
in a mighty plan.
The sky is low
and the sun is slowly
smothered by
a multicolour grey,
and in every corner
the call of the water
with its eternal plagues
is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © C.B., 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see spreading rivers
as slowly through infinite
lowlands they twine,
tall, inconceivably
delicate poplars
like feathers pluming
the horizon line,
and sunk in the depths
of that staggering vastness
farmhouses scattered
across the land,
villages, coppices,
stunted towers,
churches and elm trees
in a mighty bond.
The sky there looms low
and as silvery rainbows
of vapour drift upwards
the sun is obscured,
and from province to province
the voice of the water
with its ageless disasters
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © David McKay, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see spreading rivers
as slowly through infinite
lowlands they twine,
tall, inconceivably
delicate poplars
like feathers pluming
the horizon line,
and sunk in the depths
of that staggering vastness
farmhouses scattered
across the land,
villages, coppices,
stunted towers,
churches and elm trees
in a mighty bond.
The sky there looms low
and as silvery rainbows
of vapour drift upwards
the sun is obscured,
and from province to province
the voice of the water
with its ageless disasters
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © David McKay, 2006
Memories of Holland
When thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
slowly coursing
through endless lowlands,
rows of implausibly
barren poplars
standing like tall plumes
on the horizon;
and, sunk in the fantastic
vastness of space,
homesteads scattered
throughout the land,
tree clumps, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
bound in one giant whole.
The air hangs low there,
and slowly the sun
is smothered in a grey
diffracting haze,
and in every region
the voice of water,
with its chronic disasters,
is feared and heard.
Translation: © James Chater, 2006
When thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
slowly coursing
through endless lowlands,
rows of implausibly
barren poplars
standing like tall plumes
on the horizon;
and, sunk in the fantastic
vastness of space,
homesteads scattered
throughout the land,
tree clumps, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
bound in one giant whole.
The air hangs low there,
and slowly the sun
is smothered in a grey
diffracting haze,
and in every region
the voice of water,
with its chronic disasters,
is feared and heard.
Translation: © James Chater, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers run
sluggishly through
lowlands unending,
ranges of poplars fainter
than dreams stand
raised like plumes high
on the horizon;
and across the land,
into the vast realm sunk,
the farmhouses, scattered,
copses, hamlets,
pollarded towers,
churches and elms,
in a splendid union;
where the sky hangs low,
and the sun in grey fumes
of all colours is
languidly smothered,
and, in every region,
with its immortal disasters
the voice of the oceans
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Krijn Mengelers, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers run
sluggishly through
lowlands unending,
ranges of poplars fainter
than dreams stand
raised like plumes high
on the horizon;
and across the land,
into the vast realm sunk,
the farmhouses, scattered,
copses, hamlets,
pollarded towers,
churches and elms,
in a splendid union;
where the sky hangs low,
and the sun in grey fumes
of all colours is
languidly smothered,
and, in every region,
with its immortal disasters
the voice of the oceans
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Krijn Mengelers, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
flow slowly through
Infinite lowland,
Rows of poplars giddy
Thin beyond belief
Like towering plumes
At the horizon stand,
And sunk in the
Enormous space
The farmhouses
Spread across the ground,
Tree groups and villages
Pollarded towers,
Churches and elmtrees
In splendid union bound.
The sky hangs low
Slowly stifling the sun
In grey fog with many
colours blurred,
And in all parts
The voice of the water
with its eternal tragedies
Is feared and heard.
Translation: © Kathleen Brown & Sil Timmerman, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see broad rivers
flow slowly through
Infinite lowland,
Rows of poplars giddy
Thin beyond belief
Like towering plumes
At the horizon stand,
And sunk in the
Enormous space
The farmhouses
Spread across the ground,
Tree groups and villages
Pollarded towers,
Churches and elmtrees
In splendid union bound.
The sky hangs low
Slowly stifling the sun
In grey fog with many
colours blurred,
And in all parts
The voice of the water
with its eternal tragedies
Is feared and heard.
Translation: © Kathleen Brown & Sil Timmerman, 2006
Memory of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers slowly
flowing through endless
low-lying land,
inconceivably
gossamer poplars
on the horizon
in wispish ranks;
and in the expanses of
space, shrunken farmsteads
randomly strewn over
flat countryside,
tree-clusters, hamlets,
truncated steeples,
churches and elm trees
in a net flung wide.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun slowly stifles
in vapours where multiple
greys become blurred,
and in every far corner
the voice of the water
with its countless disasters
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © John Irons, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers slowly
flowing through endless
low-lying land,
inconceivably
gossamer poplars
on the horizon
in wispish ranks;
and in the expanses of
space, shrunken farmsteads
randomly strewn over
flat countryside,
tree-clusters, hamlets,
truncated steeples,
churches and elm trees
in a net flung wide.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun slowly stifles
in vapours where multiple
greys become blurred,
and in every far corner
the voice of the water
with its countless disasters
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © John Irons, 2006
A Memory of Holland
When thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly flowing through
endless low lands,
rows of inconceivably
thin poplars
stand on the horizon
like tall plumes:
and sunken
in the immense space,
the farms
scattered throughout the land,
groups of trees, villages,
truncated spires,
churches and elm trees
all bound together majestically.
The sky hangs low there
and the sun is slowly
smothered in varying
hues of grey mist,
and in every region
the voice of the water
with its unending disasters
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Shannon Davidson, 2006
When thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly flowing through
endless low lands,
rows of inconceivably
thin poplars
stand on the horizon
like tall plumes:
and sunken
in the immense space,
the farms
scattered throughout the land,
groups of trees, villages,
truncated spires,
churches and elm trees
all bound together majestically.
The sky hangs low there
and the sun is slowly
smothered in varying
hues of grey mist,
and in every region
the voice of the water
with its unending disasters
is dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Shannon Davidson, 2006
Remembrance of Holland
When thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
moving slowly
through endless lowland,
lines of unthinkably
hazy poplars
standing like tall plumes
on the horizon;
and the farms
submerged in the
vast expanse
scattered over the land,
stands of trees and villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
in a magnificent bond.
The sky is low
and slowly the sun
dies away
in grey colourful hazes,
and the voice of the water
with its eternal disasters
is feared and heard
in all places.
Translation: © Astrid de Vreede, 2006
When thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
moving slowly
through endless lowland,
lines of unthinkably
hazy poplars
standing like tall plumes
on the horizon;
and the farms
submerged in the
vast expanse
scattered over the land,
stands of trees and villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
in a magnificent bond.
The sky is low
and slowly the sun
dies away
in grey colourful hazes,
and the voice of the water
with its eternal disasters
is feared and heard
in all places.
Translation: © Astrid de Vreede, 2006
Recollections of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide-flowing rivers
move slowly through endless
lowlands below,
rows of incredibly
delicate poplars
like high plumes
on the horizon show;
and drowned
in the enormous expanse
the farmsteads
scattered over the nation,
tree-clusters, hamlets
truncated towers,
churches and elm-trees
in a splendid constellation.
The air hangs low there,
and the sun is slowly smothered
in greyish
multi-coloured breaths,
and all the regions
hear and fear
the voice of the water
and his endless deaths.
Translation: © Fulco Teunissen, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide-flowing rivers
move slowly through endless
lowlands below,
rows of incredibly
delicate poplars
like high plumes
on the horizon show;
and drowned
in the enormous expanse
the farmsteads
scattered over the nation,
tree-clusters, hamlets
truncated towers,
churches and elm-trees
in a splendid constellation.
The air hangs low there,
and the sun is slowly smothered
in greyish
multi-coloured breaths,
and all the regions
hear and fear
the voice of the water
and his endless deaths.
Translation: © Fulco Teunissen, 2006
Impression of Holland
Remembering Holland
I see vast rivers
gently winding
through endless lowlands
with rows of slender poplars
beyond imagination
like tall plumes
at far distance
and in the enormous
space
sunken farms
scattered around,
gathered trees, villages
flattened towers
churches and elms
in delightful coherence.
The sky is near
and the sun evaporates
smoothly in a grey
gamma of haze
and in all regions
the voice of water
with its perpetual disasters
is feared and understood
Translation: © Edward Krabbendam, 2006
Remembering Holland
I see vast rivers
gently winding
through endless lowlands
with rows of slender poplars
beyond imagination
like tall plumes
at far distance
and in the enormous
space
sunken farms
scattered around,
gathered trees, villages
flattened towers
churches and elms
in delightful coherence.
The sky is near
and the sun evaporates
smoothly in a grey
gamma of haze
and in all regions
the voice of water
with its perpetual disasters
is feared and understood
Translation: © Edward Krabbendam, 2006
Memory of Holland
When I think of Holland
I see sweeping rivers
ease through unending
reaches of low land,
unlikely rows
slender poplars
like tall plumes
at the horizon stand;
and sunken in
imposing emptiness
the farmsteads
spread all over,
tree-clusters, villages,
flat-topped towers,
elms and churches,
grandly interwoven.
The sky hangs low there
where the sun is slowly
smothered in fumes
of multi-coloured gray,
and in every province
the warnings of the water
with its ageless disasters
are heard with dismay.
Translation: © Coppe van Urk, 2006
When I think of Holland
I see sweeping rivers
ease through unending
reaches of low land,
unlikely rows
slender poplars
like tall plumes
at the horizon stand;
and sunken in
imposing emptiness
the farmsteads
spread all over,
tree-clusters, villages,
flat-topped towers,
elms and churches,
grandly interwoven.
The sky hangs low there
where the sun is slowly
smothered in fumes
of multi-coloured gray,
and in every province
the warnings of the water
with its ageless disasters
are heard with dismay.
Translation: © Coppe van Urk, 2006
Remembering Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
languidly flowing through
unending lowlands,
lines of inconceivably
tenuous poplars
like high feathers
standing on the horizon;
and drowned
in the immense space
the farms, scattered over the land,
trees gathered, villages,
towers topped,
elms and churches,
in an imposing bond.
The sky there lingers low
and the sun is sluggishly put out
in grey many coloured hazes,
and in all the counties
the voice of the water
with its eternal misfortunes
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Jaap van Klinken, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
languidly flowing through
unending lowlands,
lines of inconceivably
tenuous poplars
like high feathers
standing on the horizon;
and drowned
in the immense space
the farms, scattered over the land,
trees gathered, villages,
towers topped,
elms and churches,
in an imposing bond.
The sky there lingers low
and the sun is sluggishly put out
in grey many coloured hazes,
and in all the counties
the voice of the water
with its eternal misfortunes
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Jaap van Klinken, 2006
Souvenir de Hollande
Wide rivers winding through endless expanses,
needle-thin poplars abutting the sky, and
dotting the lowlands, submerged in the landscape:
forests and churches, a stable, a sty.
The skies there hang low, and with each passing hour,
the sun is ground down to a rainbow of greys.
From province to province, the voice of the water,
with its untold disasters, is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © S.J. Leinbach, 2006
Wide rivers winding through endless expanses,
needle-thin poplars abutting the sky, and
dotting the lowlands, submerged in the landscape:
forests and churches, a stable, a sty.
The skies there hang low, and with each passing hour,
the sun is ground down to a rainbow of greys.
From province to province, the voice of the water,
with its untold disasters, is feared and obeyed.
Translation: © S.J. Leinbach, 2006
Memories of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
lazily ambling
through boundless lowland,
rows of amazingly
wispy poplars
like tall plumes
on the horizon stand;
and in the abounding space
lie sunken
the farms
scattered throughout the land,
copses, villages,
pollarded towers,
churches and elms,
all coherent and grand.
The sky hangs low
and the sun is slowly smothered
in a grey haze
multicoloured,
and in every quarter
the voice of the water
recalling endless disaster
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Ninette de Zylva, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
lazily ambling
through boundless lowland,
rows of amazingly
wispy poplars
like tall plumes
on the horizon stand;
and in the abounding space
lie sunken
the farms
scattered throughout the land,
copses, villages,
pollarded towers,
churches and elms,
all coherent and grand.
The sky hangs low
and the sun is slowly smothered
in a grey haze
multicoloured,
and in every quarter
the voice of the water
recalling endless disaster
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Ninette de Zylva, 2006
Memories of Holland
Remembering Holland,
I see broad rivers
moving slowly through
endless lowlands,
rows of unimaginably
thin poplars
standing as lofty plumes
where the world ends;
and submerged within
this enormous space
farm houses
scattered throughout the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elms
in a union so grand.
The sky hangs low
and there the sun
is slowly muffled
by a grey mottled mist,
and in all provinces
the voice of the water
with its eternal disasters
is feared and noticed.
Translation: © Caroline Wentzel, 2006
Remembering Holland,
I see broad rivers
moving slowly through
endless lowlands,
rows of unimaginably
thin poplars
standing as lofty plumes
where the world ends;
and submerged within
this enormous space
farm houses
scattered throughout the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
truncated towers,
churches and elms
in a union so grand.
The sky hangs low
and there the sun
is slowly muffled
by a grey mottled mist,
and in all provinces
the voice of the water
with its eternal disasters
is feared and noticed.
Translation: © Caroline Wentzel, 2006
Holland Remembered
Thinking of Holland
I see how wide rivers
slowly through endless
lowlands flow,
slender, the poplars
far on the horizon
tall plumes
aligned in a row;
and sunk
in vast space
scattered farms
on the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
stumps of towers,
churches and elms
as if held in a hand.
Low hangs the sky
and slowly the sun
disappears in a
greyish yet colourful haze,
and heard everywhere
is the voice of the water
feared time and again
for its force and its rage.
Translation: © Jan de Lange, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see how wide rivers
slowly through endless
lowlands flow,
slender, the poplars
far on the horizon
tall plumes
aligned in a row;
and sunk
in vast space
scattered farms
on the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
stumps of towers,
churches and elms
as if held in a hand.
Low hangs the sky
and slowly the sun
disappears in a
greyish yet colourful haze,
and heard everywhere
is the voice of the water
feared time and again
for its force and its rage.
Translation: © Jan de Lange, 2006
Memories of Holland
Thinking of Holland
i see wide rivers languidly
flowing through boundless
low land,
rows of unthinkably
delicate poplars
rise as high crests
on horizon's end;
and sunken in the
magnificent space
are the farmhouses
spread through the land
clusters of trees, villages
pruned steeples,
churches and elms
in a union so grand
The skies there hang low
and in a haze of grey colours
the sun will fade slowly
and finally withdraw
and in every shire
the voice of the water
with its endless disaster
is heard in great awe
Translation: © Roel Appels , 2006
Thinking of Holland
i see wide rivers languidly
flowing through boundless
low land,
rows of unthinkably
delicate poplars
rise as high crests
on horizon's end;
and sunken in the
magnificent space
are the farmhouses
spread through the land
clusters of trees, villages
pruned steeples,
churches and elms
in a union so grand
The skies there hang low
and in a haze of grey colours
the sun will fade slowly
and finally withdraw
and in every shire
the voice of the water
with its endless disaster
is heard in great awe
Translation: © Roel Appels , 2006
Memories of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide flowing rivers
lingering gently through
endless low land,
tall slender poplars
implausibly slender
like plumes on the skyline
remotely they stand;
and nestling within these
wide open spaces,
are farmhouses clustering
strewn over the ground,
tree clumps and settlements,
short stumpy towers,
churches and elms
in harmony bound.
The sky touches down
and the suns many colours
get shrouded in fog and
go dull and are blurred
and all over
the region
the voice of the water
with its timeless disasters
is feared and is heard.
Translation: ©Janine Allis-Smith, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide flowing rivers
lingering gently through
endless low land,
tall slender poplars
implausibly slender
like plumes on the skyline
remotely they stand;
and nestling within these
wide open spaces,
are farmhouses clustering
strewn over the ground,
tree clumps and settlements,
short stumpy towers,
churches and elms
in harmony bound.
The sky touches down
and the suns many colours
get shrouded in fog and
go dull and are blurred
and all over
the region
the voice of the water
with its timeless disasters
is feared and is heard.
Translation: ©Janine Allis-Smith, 2006
Remembrance of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly through endless
lowland sliding by,
ranks of inconceivably
thin transparent poplars
standing like towering plumes
aligned against the sky;
and set in this tremendous
space beneath,
the farmsteads
scattered through the land,
knots of trees, villages,
stumpy towers,
churches, elms,
grandiosely planned.
Here the sky hangs low,
the sun
in grey and motley vapours
slowly drowned,
and everywhere
the voice of the water
with its timeless sorrows,
is a feared and heeded sound.
Translation: © Harry Lake, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly through endless
lowland sliding by,
ranks of inconceivably
thin transparent poplars
standing like towering plumes
aligned against the sky;
and set in this tremendous
space beneath,
the farmsteads
scattered through the land,
knots of trees, villages,
stumpy towers,
churches, elms,
grandiosely planned.
Here the sky hangs low,
the sun
in grey and motley vapours
slowly drowned,
and everywhere
the voice of the water
with its timeless sorrows,
is a feared and heeded sound.
Translation: © Harry Lake, 2006
Recollection of Holland
Thinking of Holland
I picture broad rivers
sluggishly flowing through
endless lowland,
rows of unseemly
improbably thin poplars
far off in the distance
pointing up like tall feathers;
in the immensity
of space, drowning it seems,
the farmhouses scattered
through the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
flat-topped towers,
churches and elm trees,
all in a grand union.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun there is slowly
stifled in smog and in haze,
multicolored and gray;
and from east to the west
the voice of the water
with its threat of disaster
is heard and is feared.
Translation: © Namreh, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I picture broad rivers
sluggishly flowing through
endless lowland,
rows of unseemly
improbably thin poplars
far off in the distance
pointing up like tall feathers;
in the immensity
of space, drowning it seems,
the farmhouses scattered
through the land,
clumps of trees, villages,
flat-topped towers,
churches and elm trees,
all in a grand union.
The sky there hangs low
and the sun there is slowly
stifled in smog and in haze,
multicolored and gray;
and from east to the west
the voice of the water
with its threat of disaster
is heard and is feared.
Translation: © Namreh, 2006
Remembering Holland
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers flowing
finding their way
through lands lying low,
and beyond the horizon
where poplars are growing
like gossamer feathers
in row upon row;
and in this vast
expanse I can see now
the low-lying farmsteads,
spread through the lands,
villages, thickets,
truncated towers,
churches and elms
in a grand union they stand.
in the low-hanging sky
the sun, in a damp haze
of grey and of colours
is choked and interred,
and all over the country
the voice of the waters
ever bringing disaster
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © Ole van Luyn, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers flowing
finding their way
through lands lying low,
and beyond the horizon
where poplars are growing
like gossamer feathers
in row upon row;
and in this vast
expanse I can see now
the low-lying farmsteads,
spread through the lands,
villages, thickets,
truncated towers,
churches and elms
in a grand union they stand.
in the low-hanging sky
the sun, in a damp haze
of grey and of colours
is choked and interred,
and all over the country
the voice of the waters
ever bringing disaster
is feared and is heard.
Translation: © Ole van Luyn, 2006
Recollection of Holland
Imagining Holland
I see sizable rivers
slowly through endless
lowland flow,
impossible rows
of lanky poplars
like uplifted plumes
at the horizon grow;
and in the tremendous
infinity lost
the farmers' dwellings
scattering the land,
tree clusters, hamlets,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
in a framework grand.
Sky lowly lingers
and the sun's being slowly
in grey multi-coloured
vapours obscured,
and in all regions
will the voice of the water
with his endless tragedies
be dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Roos van de Wardt, 2006
Imagining Holland
I see sizable rivers
slowly through endless
lowland flow,
impossible rows
of lanky poplars
like uplifted plumes
at the horizon grow;
and in the tremendous
infinity lost
the farmers' dwellings
scattering the land,
tree clusters, hamlets,
truncated towers,
churches and elm trees
in a framework grand.
Sky lowly lingers
and the sun's being slowly
in grey multi-coloured
vapours obscured,
and in all regions
will the voice of the water
with his endless tragedies
be dreaded and heard.
Translation: © Roos van de Wardt, 2006
Memories
Thinking about Holland
I see expansive rivers
meander through unending
lowlands, rows
of poplars
slender beyond imagining
as high plumes
appear on the horizon;
and the vast
space submerges
the farmhouses
scattered throughout the land,
tree clusters, villages
diminutive clock-towers
churches and elms,
in an immense bond.
The sky hangs sunken
and the sun slowly
in ancient many-coloured
fumes disappears
and in all regions
the voice of the sea
with her ongoing calamities
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Eleonore Schönmaier, 2006
Thinking about Holland
I see expansive rivers
meander through unending
lowlands, rows
of poplars
slender beyond imagining
as high plumes
appear on the horizon;
and the vast
space submerges
the farmhouses
scattered throughout the land,
tree clusters, villages
diminutive clock-towers
churches and elms,
in an immense bond.
The sky hangs sunken
and the sun slowly
in ancient many-coloured
fumes disappears
and in all regions
the voice of the sea
with her ongoing calamities
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Eleonore Schönmaier, 2006
Holland Remembered
Thinking of Holland
I see its broad rivers
Winding slowly
Through an endless flat land,
Rows of unthinkably
Frail-limbed poplars,
Their tall plumes standing
Against the far horizon;
Sunk in deep space
farm houses lying
scattered over the land,
copses and hamlets,
pollarded spires,
churches and elm trees,
© in one grand design.
The sky hangs low,
the sun's rays are
gradually smothered
in grey marbled fog,
and in every corner of this land
the voice of water,
forever foreboding,
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Pauline Uyterwijk & Richard Crosfield, 2006
Thinking of Holland
I see its broad rivers
Winding slowly
Through an endless flat land,
Rows of unthinkably
Frail-limbed poplars,
Their tall plumes standing
Against the far horizon;
Sunk in deep space
farm houses lying
scattered over the land,
copses and hamlets,
pollarded spires,
churches and elm trees,
© in one grand design.
The sky hangs low,
the sun's rays are
gradually smothered
in grey marbled fog,
and in every corner of this land
the voice of water,
forever foreboding,
is feared and heard.
Translation: © Pauline Uyterwijk & Richard Crosfield, 2006
Remembering Holland
Remembering Holland
Wide rivers catch my sight
Slow and never ending
They pass through lowlands,
Incomprehensible rows
Of thin poplars
As if high plumes
Stand at the very end;
And deep in the great
Space lie sunken
The farms
Spread out across the land,
Tree gatherings, villages
Pollarded towers,
Churches and elms,
Sharing a greater connection.
Skies hang low there
And sunlight slowly gets
Smothered in vapours
Of grey colour spectrums
And in all regions
The voice of water becomes
With its everlasting tragedies
Both feared and heard.
Translation: © Colin van der Bel
Remembering Holland
Wide rivers catch my sight
Slow and never ending
They pass through lowlands,
Incomprehensible rows
Of thin poplars
As if high plumes
Stand at the very end;
And deep in the great
Space lie sunken
The farms
Spread out across the land,
Tree gatherings, villages
Pollarded towers,
Churches and elms,
Sharing a greater connection.
Skies hang low there
And sunlight slowly gets
Smothered in vapours
Of grey colour spectrums
And in all regions
The voice of water becomes
With its everlasting tragedies
Both feared and heard.
Translation: © Colin van der Bel
Uit: Verzamelde Gedichten, Atheneaum-Polak & van Gennep, Amsterdam, 1979
