{"id":29480,"date":"2021-01-22T06:51:53","date_gmt":"2021-01-22T14:51:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.heuermontage.com\/?p=29480"},"modified":"2021-01-22T06:51:56","modified_gmt":"2021-01-22T14:51:56","slug":"trekvogels","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.heuermontage.com\/?p=29480","title":{"rendered":"Trekvogels"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The poem about migratory birds below was written at the end of World War II by one of the more prolific Flemish poets, Hubert van Herreweghen<\/a>. Tricky translation – in the original the very last sentence really conveys that you should learn to love life or what is left of it. There was, with winter approaching, probably longing to follow the birds, away from the fields of Flanders, to a a warmer South, leaving the violence, the losses and serious hunger of those years behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

MIGRATING BIRDS<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The summer that has cheated us; 
the gloomy lesson autumn brings. 
Beneath the slow, high cumulus, 
I see a black bird fly across,
heading south with beating wings. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The magical flight of the wild geese 
and cranes with their clamouring cries 
over the land like a golden fleece. 
Winter brings shadows, dark without cease, 
until a new journey fills up the skies. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vulnerable heart and senses in pain, 
There is no home, in east or west, 
where, landed, you\u2019re not restless again. 
You must learn to love life, that\u2019s plain, 
Or, anyway, to love the rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Hubert van Herreweghen, translated by Paul Vincent<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From: Verzamelde gedichten<\/em>
Publisher: Orion, Bruges, 1977<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked it as a bridge to one of my favorite clips of all time, my go-to when I need peacefulness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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