The air is still: on endlessly far slopes
The city extends in blond and rosy light -
I'm drawn to sounds of mirth and chatty tropes:
A young man kisses a face sweet and white.
Looking down, beds fixed and severe I see:
A stark autumn garden round a basin lies.
Looking up: a dome, full of tombs and history,
Like an observatory above the treetops flies.
A stone flight of steps that crumbles yet survives
Makes me pause in melancholy thought -
For lifeless things may still have longer lives
Than we who've grown and fade and come to nought.
Albert Verwey, 100 Dutch-Language Poems
Translated from the Dutch by Paul Vincent and John Irons
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