The Wheel
THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come —
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come —
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
Yeats.
Ik kan er niet helemaal kaas van maken , dichters in het Nederlands vind ik al moeilijk genoeg.
BeantwoordenVerwijderenBij de laatste zin , wordt duidelijk dat ik te weinig voeling met 't Engels heb.
het verlangen om maar dood te gaan. omdat de zin van het leven is verdwenen.
BeantwoordenVerwijderen