The Marriage

"Maar doodslaan deed hij niet, want tusschen droom en daad
staan wetten in de weg en praktische bezwaren,
en ook weemoedigheid, die niemand kan verklaren,
en die des avonds komt, wanneer men slapen gaat."

Willem Elsschot, 'Het Huwelijk', Verzameld Werk, Van Kampen en Zoon NV, 1957, p. 737.

(amateuristic English translation below)

Something in the above will forever bug me, so let me respond in kind (alas not - at all - in quality).


Sometimes, between going-to and falling-a sleep,
there is that instant
(lying horizontally)
when you, elsewhere, are tall and the world so small;
a giant but far from a tyrant.

That is the moment
(rising vertically)
you only just succeed
in fighting of the sleep,
barely awake but havin' a ball,
fucking fuzzlessly brilliant.

The moment all's perfect, all's silent
Day-dream at night, no struggle, fright or fight,
All is explanation, 18 carats imagination.

Unfelt then, the figment felt at dawn
of having felt, if only faintly, god damned fantastic.

Then it dawned, indeed it dawned.
Nobody damned, not even to brilliance.
The epiphany an anomaly, a black hole,
computing error, divide by zero & you: no hero.

Romance is rotten, melancholy mental masturbation!

Left to your own devices
you produce your worst advises.
You were sound asleep
now back to everyday's upkeep.
Uphill again, not necessarily steep;
of no use to heed that instant
of being a born-again infant.

Not close and certainly no cigar: a bit of prose to say 'but still:'

But still one needs to take every moment of inspiration. The problem is only there if one makes it into a mystery (& 'weemoed' isn't quite melancholy). When intention & action get separated, this becomes a problem for any marriage & not in the least for the marriage between your passion and your reason (The marriage that you call 'I').

But that is all in the quoted poem and it is not in the quoting poem so you'd do well to get familiar with Elsschot - he did not die a bitter man because he considered it & dismissed the case because he could imagine it without only imagining himself.

"But slaying her he did not do, for between dream and deed
laws stand in the way and practical concerns,
and a melancholy, whose explanation no-one ever learns,
which comes at night, when one goes to sleep."

Whilst writing this I was listening to: Davie Allan & The Arrwos, Cycle Breed & Fred Lane, 'from the one that cut you'.

13:19 Gepost door Guido Nius in Liefde | Permalink | Commentaren (0) | Tags: elsschot, self, intention, imagination, tones |  Facebook |

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