Saturday, May 31, 2014


All art is a sacrifice. As soon as selfishness rules, it corrupts the faculties. Only the harmonious poethood is great. Everything disharmonious disrupts the soul. This confronts the human being with his surroundings. The true poet knows what his inspiration is worth, also for others, whether they are listening or not. For him its not about an acknowledgement in the wavering opinion of a contemporary. He finds his certainties within himself. They are realized in his work.

Heaven's prayers and Mary's merged to a far eternity that was speaking to me. From then on I kept hearing poetry's voice as if coming from depths behind our temporariness. It connects the races of mankind. It reveals the essence of our life. It uplifts our eyes above the appearance of things. It allows us to look into the spectacle of salvation itself.

Sent by Bert Bevers
Translation: Albert Hagenaars

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