"A Dutch Girl" by Gilbert Stuart Newton‘Love’s Wisdom’ by Roland Holst (1888-1976), translated by Leo Zoutewelle The Society February 22, 2020 Beauty, Culture, Love Poems, Poetry, Translation translated by Leo Zoutewelle To you my word will be reproached as lie, Maliciously: “who left you so maligned, In vain are all the days in which you pined For him who cheated you and made you cry.” But I have weighed your virgin heart before And know your strength and that you wouldn’t falter Before the world’s allures, nor shut your psalter For mocking grins that pass your grieving score For even in a group that I had scorned I know your once caressèd face adorned With loneliness. Such glow! – o, mystery – Deep in your eyes and all around your head My soul’s eyes now see full and gently spread The soft light of love’s wisdom’s history. Original Dutch Men zal bij u mijn woord smaden als logen, tergend: ‘Die u verliet, heeft dit geveinsd, en ijdel zijn uw dagen als gij peinst aan hem die u bedwelmend heeft bedrogen.’ Maar ik heb eens uw zuiverst hart gewogen en weet uw kracht en weet dat gij niet deinst hoe ook uw wereld lokt of smalend grijnst voorbij het leed van uw verlaten oogen. Want in een kring, zelfs door mijn spot gesmaad, weet ik uw eens zoo zachtomstreeld gelaat eenzaam. Maar glanzend – o, geheimenis – diep in uw oogen en wijd om uw hoofd, zien mijn zielsoogen vol en ongedoofd het zachte licht dat liefde’s wijsheid is. The Doppelgänger by Leo Zoutewelle My favored park* shone pure and bright in snow; I rode my bike with urgency that way, The wind did moan, it was quite cold, I know, And it was lonely but serene that day. When I had reached my covert resting place I saw a dark and chilling shadow there, With fiery eyes: an old and fearsome face. Alas! It was my own resemblance fair. I’ve come, he said, from western lands afar To find my rest in regions of my youth, Until it’s time for me to cross the bar And find eternity and peace and truth. The man sighed deeply, turned, then disappeared, As I was left with thoughts of things I feared. *park: De Hooge Veluwe, in Schaarsbergen, The Netherlands Leo Zoutewelle was born in 1935 in The Netherlands and was raised there until at age twenty he emigrated to the United States. After retiring in 2012 he has written an autobiography and two novels (unpublished). Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.