Nature is for the self-satisfied or vain.
And yet: what is left of nature in this land?
A bit of forest the size of a paper,
A hill with a few estates on its side.
Give me the gray of big city boulevards,
The riveted embankments of water’s edge,
The clouds, never as beautiful as when, framed
In attic windows, they float by in the sky.
Everything is much for one who expects little.
Life holds its wonders deeply hidden
Until, all at once, it reveals them at their best.
All of this I’ve thought over to myself,
Wet with rain, on a drizzly dull morning,
Witlessly happy, on the Dapperstreet.
(Jakobus Cornelis Bloem)
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