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zondag 2 februari 2014

Snapshots of a bridge over the Canal


Colorful village that no-one knows;
that is on no map
and no road leads to it
To there, where no people live,
just water of the canal


With reed shores and high hills,
a church tower far away,
but its bells are silent,
don’t give a sound,
or maybe a whistle in the wind


Some birches listen carefully
to what no-one hears,
what cannot be told anymore;
the empty crossing over the Canal,
a bridge where no soul passes


Just the death, those who were once
and be no more
afraid of the water where so many drowned
waiting for help from the bell-tower

that never came






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