Maybe my admiration
For Jacques Brel
Lies solely in the fact
That I can’t understand him
And don’t have to listen
To endless love songs
That make me wonder where
Love actually went.
Maybe I get a roof
But no running water,
A voice but no words
And that’s what I want.
If God or Belgium
Could tell me how life goes
I’d be a missionary
Spreading the good word
Like love and peanut butter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem