Yesterday, yes, I still existed here:
in this pitiful winestain,
in these paupered words
way past their prime,in that handshake which I
will never manage to hold
in any of my handbooks,
and which under my table leads
the still life of a retired
Go on, admit it:
yesterday you also existed here,
when the sun turned up humming
and we took in the fact that
neither one of us, in this circus,
From Springvossen (Amsterdam: De Bezige Bij, 2000). By arrangement with the estate of Hans Faverey.
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