Near my home in Nijmegen, The Netherlands, there is a small but beautiful nature reserve: Overasseltse- en Hatertse Vennen.
A landscape of fens, small groups of trees, heather and grassland.
Did all the Netherlands look like that thousands of years ago?
I like to think so…
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For a brief moment, the last rays of the sun dazzle you
and take you to a silent, white night…
At the end of the day,
the water sweeps the land
into a dreamless sleep
In the fire of the sunset,
the day dies
for the night to be born
The morning dawned,
she washed her hair
The breath of spring awakens the earth,
she yawns and stretches under her mossy blanket
Through the thinning morning mist
I hear the winter’s voice,
a song awakens nature
Lost in excess of impressions,
in search for the soul of light,
where silence is born from emptiness
Dreams flow into the night, oust the darkness
and invite our memories to appear from their shelters
The marshes seem to breathe heavily when the night falls
Their breath is condensing into fog patches that slowly rise from the water
A blanket for the night
Pale evening light seems to rise up through the water,
where the wind is sleeping peacefully on the bottom of the marshes.
The silence of the night slowly supplants the rustle of the day.
The storms are raging on the rolling sea
and on the highway of regret
the winds of change are blowing wild and free
Bob Dylan – Make You Feel My Love
The winds and waters meet,
clouds are born where they weave
The sun is down
veils of mist flow over the land
the cold breath of the night silences my mind
The night awakens, glances
in the mirror of the river
Hums along with a chorus of grass,
guided by the voice of the wind
The wind causes small waves
that die without a sound
once they reach the overgrown shore
The autumn wind is brushing the trees
and dresses the land in the colors of cold.
Nature is almost ready for winter.
Now all your songs of beauty fail
The forest closes ’round you
The sun goes down behind a veil
‘Tis now that you would call me
So rest in peace my nightingale
Beneath your branch of holly
Fare thee well my nightingale
I lived but to be near you
Tho’ you are singing somewhere still
I can no longer hear you
From ‘Nightingale’ – Leonard Cohen (2004)
Published on the 7th of November 2016, the day of his death.
The night covers the land
with the veil of a breathless kiss
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