The bricklayer sweats his guts out Poem by Arjen Duinker

The bricklayer sweats his guts out,
The head librarian grabs his coat,
I recognize them and smile.
And you, who raise boys and girls
And deliver newspapers and mend clothes
And study math at night
Then wash your hair, dead-tired.
It's all right.

I recognize you and smile.
Take a rest and begin again,
Put lipstick on or leave it off.
Prick bread on a stick and go roaming for the day,
All ages will recognize you and cheer you on,
You are a flower.

The bushes and trees aren't into violence,
They protect you and offer shade,
The wind defies your molecules,
Just as well, too.

Don't mind about the sun and moon knowing who you are
Without ever saying your name.
The seasons and the months,
The nights and the days,
They recognize you, they recognize us all.
We go up the hill and down again,
And eat with more experience.

You too, bicycle repairman,
And also the swimming-pool administrator,
And also he who adjudicates bankruptcies,
And also the musician playing to full houses,
And also the rice farmer, and the goat-herd.
All of you work hard.
Take a rest and begin again.

The wood of the rafters
Is just as strong as the wood of the gangplanks
Because it was felled with a smile.

I know no more than you do.
I spit on my shoes and polish them,
And go on my way
Past the monks in their monastery,
Past the huddles of concrete fixers,
Past the black-eyed beggars,
And I remember you all.

I love women and embrace men,
I talk nonsense to kids,
Lift them up in the air.
I model myself on nothing,
Each second is a new era.

We are not kept apart by silence
Or by the thunder of the clouds
Or by the heat of the flames.
We talk and then shut up
And go outside for the rain.

I recognize you and smile.
Take a rest and begin again.
Put lipstick on or leave it off.
Prick bread on a stick and go roaming for the day,
All ages will recognize you and cheer you on,
You are a flower.