Poem by Hannie Rouweler



Only poets are that foolish to leave the cinema in the middle
of the movie – or to switch off the TV at home when a thought warms
up and doesn’t disappear on its own. I ran to pen and paper –
I never have them in my pocket – I ran to the computer to capture
something from long ago: the moon.

What do we know about the moon? I still not much more than when
I published my first poem. I then waited for over twenty years,
in the darkest of the night, before a poem was printed again
in the round year 19-88. My first poem was about the moon and
neatly handwritten I put it in the letterbox of the school newspaper.

A few weeks later I received the school paper in my hands, I tugged
it deep into my bag between books, almost impossible to find.
I was ashamed of the moon. Nobody was allowed to see him.
Nobody was allowed to know, what I thought about the moon at the time,
nobody was allowed to know about him. Nobody to see. Nobody to know.

Debasish, is the moon in New Delhi the same like here? With dancing
dolls in a circle? Deepti, is the moon in Pune the same like here with
mountain tops and lakes within and sometimes further away the sea?
Tonight, the moon is hidden in a dark sky in which occasionally light
white patches and black clouds are floating in front to protect him.



Alleen dichters zijn zo dwaas om midden in de film
de bios te verlaten – of thuis de TV uit te zetten als een gedachte opwelt
en niet uit zichzelf meteen verdwijnt. Ik rende naar pen en papier –
die heb ik nooit op zak – ik rende naar de computer om iets
van lang geleden vast te leggen: de maan.

Wat weten wij van de maan? Ik nog niet zoveel meer dan toen ik
mijn eerste gedicht publiceerde. Daarna heb ik nog ruim twintig jaar gewacht,
in het donkerste van de nacht, voordat ik een gedicht liet drukken
in het ronde jaartal 19-88. Mijn eerste gedicht ging over de maan
en netjes handgeschreven legde ik het in de brievenbus van de schoolkrant.

Enkele weken daarna kreeg ik de schoolkrant in mijn handen, ik stopte hem
diep weg in mijn tas tussen boeken, bijna onvindbaar.
Ik schaamde me voor de maan. Niemand mocht hem zien.
Niemand mocht van mij weten hoe ik over de maan dacht in die tijd,
niemand mocht het weten. Niemand mocht het zien. Niemand weten.

Debasish, is de maan in New Delhi soms hetzelfde als hier? Met dansende
poppetjes in een kring? Deepti, is de maan in Puna hetzelfde als hier
met bergtoppen waartussen meren liggen en soms verderop de zee?
Vanavond ligt de maan verborgen aan een donkere hemel waar af en toe
lichte flarden en zwarte wolken voorlangs drijven om hem te beschermen.


2 thoughts on “A HIDDEN MOON (EEN VERSCHOLEN MAAN) / Poem by Hannie Rouweler

    • Thanks!! I got also a wonderful reaction from India:
      Deepti Gupta

      Hannie, you are a sensitive poetess with inner deep Feelings & Emotions. You make any obscure thing ‘a poetry’. Because, you have a unique ‘Vision’ to look at ‘even the ordinary things’ with deep insight, that’s because of this vision & insight -as you said, it is only a poet, who may leave the cinema in the middle of the movie – or switch off the TV at home when a thought warms up. I am also like that. T.V. is frivolous for me when an emotion or thought ‘grips’ me & compels me to pen it down ‘Soulfully’. These things are very PRECIOUS to a poet. It is her/his LIFE, it is her/his PASSION to SURVIVE, to be in ETERNAL BLISS. You have rightly expressed many things in this nice post which identify with the thoughts and emotions of other poets with the same mental & emotional frequency.

      No doubt, everyone has its own hidden moon. The world is unaware about that moon, shinning inside in the azure Sky of heart. It rules the heart of the possessor, fills it with soothing light, inspires to write beautiful ODE in the praise of moon and so on…..

      This is the blissful & blessed world of a poet where S/He is energized, Blooms, Smiles, Laughs with the tears of joy in the eyes & goes in Trance. That’s why, we poets are different from others. The world may call a poet “an emotional fool”, a stupid, naive creature, but the thinking of other worldly wise people is futile for moon lovers. Of course, the association of Moon (Lunar) would have some “impact” on the poet & that influence can be noticed in her/his Lunatic being at times.

      Being Lunatic is far times better than being a mundane dull person, giving our hearts away, a sordid boon, – as the Wordsworth said it aptly in his famous poem – “The World Is Too Much With Us”.

      Hannie, for my identical emotional attitude & connections, I always love to read your each & everything, you pen down.

      Dr DEEPTI GUPTA, Pune, India

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