Nog altijd ben je dood

There are still no terraces in the summers on the squares
And after a thunderstorm, there is still no ozone in the air
There are still no slow low barges sinking along the Rhine
And even the apple trees still bear no fruit in October
Still the poets do not write verses and refrains
And the evening sun still does not kiss the world red
The moon still refuses to shine its silent light
And no trains thunder
And still you are dead

Still no dawn rises in its full glory
Still there are no nice things about cricket in the newspaper
And the Holland-Acht still does not crow victory
There are no cows interestingly in my wet, flat land
No city reflects in the ancient water
Or are the water-heavy cloud skies, gray as lead
Still, a laugh does not occasionally sound in the theater
There is still no later
And still you are dead

Still you are dead
Still, since you are dead
Never anything nice
On TV
Still, every naked is too naked
A sightseeing boat too much of a sightseeing boat
And you are dead
For two

But one day, the doves will flap landing on the squares
Then Betuwe and Veluwe will bloom again
Then in the Greek seas, the dolphins will dance laughing
And every grain in every land will withstand any kind of hurricane
And all sour grapes in the world will turn honey sweet
And all glass and all lead will come together and become stained glass
And suddenly everyone will understand everything about how to proceed
And every evening my cool land will drown in the evening red
And I will meet you again
And you will greet me again

And then we will no longer be dead