MEMORY OF ANDRITSENA Poem by Cornelius Onno Jellema

Especially that night-time barking from the valley
stayed with you, the night was warm there
and without cars. The odd owl hooted,
a roving call. Did you think then of the men
on the market square by the plane tree? No,
you savoured the silence and the sleeplessness,
spiritually in the dark, listening
scarcely embodied. That stayed with you.
The temple after a long drive that morning,
no one was there save in your fantasy
no smell or shape of a spirit,
just its aura. With goats, no goatherds,
scattered on the sides of higher mountains,
the temple lonely as an empty dwelling -
that stayed with you - but beautiful, almost holy.

Now your memory, here, on this flat
Groningen land, in this house in the wind,
inhospitable: here you're like someone
at home, not wishing to fear
what's to come, though it's much in your thoughts.
But then, to fall asleep, there is
Andritsena,
with images that take over
existence from you.