Talk:Jan Campert

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The Eighteen Who Died edit

Latest comment: 15 years ago1 comment1 person in discussion

These are the words for the poem discussed in the article in case someone thinks it might be a good idea to include them in the article itself:

A cell is just two meters long and scarce two meters wide; smaller will be that plot of ground which I have not yet tried, where nameless I will lie at rest, my cellmates at my side; none of us eighteen gathered here will see the eventide

Beloved, charming air and land when Holland once was free! But when our foes had conquered us, there was no rest for me. What can a man, upright and true, attempt in such a plight? Just kiss his child, and kiss his wife, and fight the useless fight.

I knew the task I had begun, the burdens I would bear, but hearts that are afire ignore the dangers everywhere; they know how once in this small land we all were proud and free before the cursed raper's hand planned all things differently;

before the ones who break all oaths performed this act of shame: invaded Holland's low green land and threatened us with flame' before the ones who pride themselves with German purity forced a whole land beneath their rule and plundered shamelessly.

The fierce pied piper of Berlin now pipes his melody! As sure as I will soon be dead and never get to see my love and never break the bread or sleep again with her, you must reject all that he bids-- that wily murderer!

Remember, you who read these words, my comrades in distress and also all their dear ones in their deep unhappiness. Remember, just as we have thought of our own land and friends-- day always follows after night, and darkness always ends.

I see how the first morning light peeps through the small, high pane; my God, please make my dying light; if I committed sin as everyone can sometimes fail, grant me your grace, O God, so that I walk out like a man to face the firing squad.

Translated by Henrietta Ten Harmsel from the Dutch by Jan Campert.

This poem appears in: Eman, Diet with James Schaap. Things We Couldn't Say. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1999. Pp. 391-392.

Kawaika (talk) 00:49, 31 May 2008 (UTC)Reply

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