ON TOP OF A ROOF

In a street not far from the harbor of
Portsmouth you showed me the roof
on which women stood waiting.
Waiting for their husbands to come back
from the sea.

I only see one woman.
She is dressed in a long black robe and a shawl
covers her face in the wind and cold rain.
That woman will never go away.
She could be anybody. Always.

It is like a new song of a long time ago.
You hear in it the saudade from Lisbon,
spleen, the fishermen’s songs from Ireland,
the last waltz from Vienna in the slow waves
from the Danube crossing the heart of Europe.

(written for Charles Simic)

Hannie


Hannie Rouweler
www.hannierouweler.be