Born in Langbroek in a spring day in 1905, and died in Leusden 57 years later, in a winter day. This is the horizon of the human experience of a Dutch man, Gerrit Achterberg, who has not resigned to the death of the beloved woman, a poet of the Protestant religion that has left us almost surreal pages where technical knowledge merges with simply one word precious, one that opens to the understanding of what he has experienced emotionally, and transformed it into words.
EXPLORATION – by Gerrit Achterberg
“You’re with the flower and with the wind;
a condition unknown; I want
groped, with words,
to express any difference
that still exists between us;
until in the wilderness,
just compensation to your loss
I have to know the precise boundaries
of what I have lost.”
WITH THIS POEM – by Gerrit Achterberg
“With this poem ends the previous year.
I remain my own subject.
Until at last it appears
Who is the master and who is servant.
Between me and my life again
We can only dig a grave.
But other than these things
There is just the song to sing,
you just have to subtract the death
the song that is in your body,
the song that your body
is the Immaculate Conception
and that death does not belong
collection in these words.”
ENGRAVING – by Gerrit Achterberg
“The trees were etched
On steel plate, in my absence.
When I came back, they kept away
the time and lasted rigid,
in front of the blue drypoint
evening, looming large in the branches.
Below, the house was secured,
and could take hours
you offers, which were intact.
It was enough to just get into the slab
and close the door behind me.
The rooms kept you collection.
There was a scent of lavender, dense.
Glazing gray slime, as then.”