Vrolijk makende VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Lekker weer om binnen een fles te ontkurken. Hier is nog een oppepper.
De wind en het grauwe weer gaan over mijn hart,
en ergens over een dak waar ik heb bemind;
de winter wordt koud, en de struiken zijn al zwart -
over een plek waar mijn graf zal zijn gaat de wind.
Ik zou vuur maken als zij hier weer bij mij kwam
als eens in dat oud verhaal van haar en van mij;
maar nu sta ik, stil en denkende, bij het raam -
de winter wordt koud; de jaren gingen voorbij.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
De wind en het grauwe weer gaan over mijn hart,
en ergens over een dak waar ik heb bemind;
de winter wordt koud, en de struiken zijn al zwart -
over een plek waar mijn graf zal zijn gaat de wind.
Ik zou vuur maken als zij hier weer bij mij kwam
als eens in dat oud verhaal van haar en van mij;
maar nu sta ik, stil en denkende, bij het raam -
de winter wordt koud; de jaren gingen voorbij.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Barbaarse VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Tijd voor de formatieborrel. Deze Griek is voor Tjeenk.
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians are due here today.
Why isnt anything happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit there without legislating?
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, theyll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting at the citys main gate
on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.
He has even prepared a scroll to give him,
replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why dont our distinguished orators come forward as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and theyre bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious peoples faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, whats going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians are due here today.
Why isnt anything happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit there without legislating?
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, theyll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting at the citys main gate
on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.
He has even prepared a scroll to give him,
replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why dont our distinguished orators come forward as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and theyre bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious peoples faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, whats going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
VrijMiBo in het park
Het is weekend. Lekker een moment om in de tuin te gaan zitten.
Alle banken hebben hun gelieven
aan de moede scheemring toevertrouwd.
En zij huiveren diep in eigen hout
sinds de minnenden zich stil verhieven.
Nacht en regen. Soms een roep door 't woud
van een duif en het onhoorbaar klieven
van het duister, dat zich slapend houdt
om de laatste liefde te gerieven.
Verder niets. De nacht en ik alleen,
eenzaam wandelend aan de rand der tijden,
zó verheugd en zó bedroefd meteen
om mijn voeten die een afscheid schrijden...
En de zachte regens om mij heen
of iemand ingehouden schreide...
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Alle banken hebben hun gelieven
aan de moede scheemring toevertrouwd.
En zij huiveren diep in eigen hout
sinds de minnenden zich stil verhieven.
Nacht en regen. Soms een roep door 't woud
van een duif en het onhoorbaar klieven
van het duister, dat zich slapend houdt
om de laatste liefde te gerieven.
Verder niets. De nacht en ik alleen,
eenzaam wandelend aan de rand der tijden,
zó verheugd en zó bedroefd meteen
om mijn voeten die een afscheid schrijden...
En de zachte regens om mij heen
of iemand ingehouden schreide...
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
VrijMiBo zonder broekje
Het is weekend. De vrijdag geeft zich bloot.
For me, the naked and the nude
(By lexicographers construed
As synonyms that should express
The same deficiency of dress
Or shelter) stand as wide apart
As love from lies, or truth from art.
Lovers without reproach will gaze
On bodies naked and ablaze;
The Hippocratic eye will see
In nakedness, anatomy;
And naked shines the Goddess when
She mounts her lion among men.
The nude are bold, the nude are sly
To hold each treasonable eye.
While draping by a showman's trick
Their dishabille in rhetoric,
They grin a mock-religious grin
Of scorn at those of naked skin.
The naked, therefore, who compete
Against the nude may know defeat;
Yet when they both together tread
The briary pastures of the dead,
By Gorgons with long whips pursued,
How naked go the sometimes nude!
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
For me, the naked and the nude
(By lexicographers construed
As synonyms that should express
The same deficiency of dress
Or shelter) stand as wide apart
As love from lies, or truth from art.
Lovers without reproach will gaze
On bodies naked and ablaze;
The Hippocratic eye will see
In nakedness, anatomy;
And naked shines the Goddess when
She mounts her lion among men.
The nude are bold, the nude are sly
To hold each treasonable eye.
While draping by a showman's trick
Their dishabille in rhetoric,
They grin a mock-religious grin
Of scorn at those of naked skin.
The naked, therefore, who compete
Against the nude may know defeat;
Yet when they both together tread
The briary pastures of the dead,
By Gorgons with long whips pursued,
How naked go the sometimes nude!
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Verveelde VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Tijd om te dromen. Tijd om u te vervelen.
Life, friends, is boring.
We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) Ever to confess youre bored
means you have no
Inner Resources. I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
Prettig weekend. And be nice. En take care.
Life, friends, is boring.
We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) Ever to confess youre bored
means you have no
Inner Resources. I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
Prettig weekend. And be nice. En take care.
VrijMiBo voor alle losers
Het is weekend. Kop op. Het kan nog.
Waar ik mijn hart aan heb verpand
in mijn verspild verleden,
het ging voorbij, het hield geen stand,
het is als zand vergleden.
Ik heb mij steeds het meest gehecht
aan sterfelijke zaken,
aan dingen die ik nimmer echt
tot mijn bezit kon maken.
Maar alles wat zo dierbaar was
dat ik het heb verloren,
is mij sinds ik het kwijt ben pas
voorgoed gaan toebehoren.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Waar ik mijn hart aan heb verpand
in mijn verspild verleden,
het ging voorbij, het hield geen stand,
het is als zand vergleden.
Ik heb mij steeds het meest gehecht
aan sterfelijke zaken,
aan dingen die ik nimmer echt
tot mijn bezit kon maken.
Maar alles wat zo dierbaar was
dat ik het heb verloren,
is mij sinds ik het kwijt ben pas
voorgoed gaan toebehoren.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Keizerlijke VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. U mag weer.
Spare me the Roman wars, and those
Who battled on in myth, when prose
Extends to suit these topics better
Than odes in their mellifluous meter.
Maecenas, think on this awhile:
Strong themes are suited to your style
Like dragging tyrants by their necks.
While my sweet Muse would sing of sex,
Of my fair lady, Licymnia
Who fondly hopes her heart will be a
Faithful devotee of mine
With eyes as shimmering as wine.
See how she glories at the chance
To show her prowess in the dance.
Though lightly clad, she's not the least
Shy of display at Diane's feast.
Tell me, Maecenas, wouldn't you
Abjure all wealth, and treasure too,
If Licymnia would choose to spare
One strand of her luxuriant hair?
Even if this flirtatious miss
Denies you the favor of one kiss
To disconcert you, makes you feel it,
She won't accept your kiss; she'll steal it!
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Spare me the Roman wars, and those
Who battled on in myth, when prose
Extends to suit these topics better
Than odes in their mellifluous meter.
Maecenas, think on this awhile:
Strong themes are suited to your style
Like dragging tyrants by their necks.
While my sweet Muse would sing of sex,
Of my fair lady, Licymnia
Who fondly hopes her heart will be a
Faithful devotee of mine
With eyes as shimmering as wine.
See how she glories at the chance
To show her prowess in the dance.
Though lightly clad, she's not the least
Shy of display at Diane's feast.
Tell me, Maecenas, wouldn't you
Abjure all wealth, and treasure too,
If Licymnia would choose to spare
One strand of her luxuriant hair?
Even if this flirtatious miss
Denies you the favor of one kiss
To disconcert you, makes you feel it,
She won't accept your kiss; she'll steal it!
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Vrije Bevrijdings VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Ga iets leuks doen. Of niet. Mag allemaal.
the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are pointed
at you,
when all the voices
hurl their insults
while the dream is being
strangled.
the nights you fight best
are
when reason gets
kicked in the
gut,
when the chariots of
gloom
encircle
you.
the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
fills the
air,
when the kiss of death is
mistaken for
love.
the nights you fight best
are
when the game is
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.
the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you chase a thousand
dark rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against the
impossible,
as you become a brother
to the tender sister
of joy and
move on
regardless.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
Fucked up VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Ja, misschien voelde het al zo, maar nu echt. Hier is een vrolijk vers.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one anothers throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And dont have any kids yourself.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one anothers throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And dont have any kids yourself.
Prettig weekend. And be nice.