The ladder and the rope Poem by Karel van de Woestijne

The ladder and the rope; the straw; the chilly smoothness
of bowl and knife... The fearful morn dissembles, waits.
The air's inert. Each silence listens to the silence.
The house is deader than a snowy winter's night.
- The cauldron has been scoured where soggy swill once seethed,
the beast's outside. Sluggish wise fingers fumble;
the sow quivers; she stares askance... And the day is
like a dead woman whom I'm not allowed to love...
The day is empty. Hear the horses stamping in the stable.
The day's a void; the hollow Christmas bells are sounding...

My God, I was the head where Thou didst show Thy grace.
They knew it. And they fed me, like this beast
that their desire did feed and that their lust will slay.
With their rancour they fed my yearning thoughts
and I grew beautiful, and had not grasped their envy...
Now is the time, my God, when they will slaughter me
and - naught that my resistance can fix its fear upon...

The day's a void. The hollow Christmas bells are sounding...