{"id":300593,"date":"1975-01-01T00:00:18","date_gmt":"1974-12-31T23:00:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/adriaan-morrienacht-gedichten\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T14:12:48","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T13:12:48","slug":"adriaan-morrienacht-gedichten","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/adriaan-morrienacht-gedichten\/","title":{"rendered":"Adriaan Morri\u00ebn\r\n\r\nAcht gedichten"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 148]<\/div>\r\n<\/a>\r\n

\r\nAdriaan Morri\u00ebn<\/i>\r\n\r\n
\r\nAcht gedichten<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Onweer a.d. 1923<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Dondergerommel in de verte.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Moeder ging overal de ramen sluiten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Vader legde de krant opzij.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De kinderen staakten hun spel.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Windvlagen. Stof dwarrelde omhoog.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De eerste grote regendruppels. Hagel.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En dan weer stilte. Het werd heel donker.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De lamp werd aangestoken.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De eerste echte donderslagen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dichtbij nu, boven het dorp. De Here sprak.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Er liep nog iemand buiten,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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haastig en met het hoofd gebogen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Gedachten aan de ondergang<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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der wereld. Het Laatste Oordeel.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De doden verrezen uit hun graven.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het grote weerzien was begonnen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
[p. 149]<\/div>\r\n

Interieur<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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De angst het huis te verlaten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En de angst erin terug te keren.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Je hebt alleen maar een lichaam.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En zelfs die scheiding in woorden<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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is ridicuul en niet eens juist.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De mens is een machine:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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breek je zijn arm, dan kan hij niet strelen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Wat doe je? Ga je niet zitten?<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Of blijf je staan kijken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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naar deze meubels, die muren,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de ramen die uitzicht geven<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op het plantsoen waarin kinderen spelen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in ‘t gras, onder de bomen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ook bomen hebben een lichaam.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Kijk maar hoe zij bewegen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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wanneer de wind er doorheen gaat.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En hoe zij ineens verstillen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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wanneer de wind is gaan liggen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Zo roerloos kun jij nooit wezen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zo roerloos en dan toch leven.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 150]<\/div>\r\n

Danseres<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Doodsbleek, blinkend van zweet en hijgend<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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stormt zij ‘t toneel op (het is niet stormen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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maar trippelen, fladderen, zweven, nooit helemaal<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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stilstaan) en neemt, al buigend, kushanden werpend<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en met een hemelse glimlach, ‘t applaus in ontvangst.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De lege schouwburg. De stilte<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van dikke tapijten. Stofzuigers.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Een werkster met spataderen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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onder haar kous.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 151]<\/div>\r\n

Nazaat<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Kinderen ontspringen aan hun drift:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dikzakken, labbekakken, aterlingen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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duimzuigers, stamel- en stotteraars,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dwangnageligen, lulbroeken, blaasUppigen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dikkoppen, donderstralen, snotapen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vroegrijpe pikketrekkers, nagelbijters,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dauwwormigen en tepelkauwers,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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maar ook hier of daar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een kleine engel die klaarwakker ligt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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omdat hij in zijn bedje heeft gepist.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 152]<\/div>\r\n

Waarom?<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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De lucht bedenkelijk blauw.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De smerige huizen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De belachelijke mensen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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B\u00e9la Bart\u00f3k, het zesde strijkkwartet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Mozart, een lieveling.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het eenzame<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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alleen al van die namen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 153]<\/div>\r\n

Panorama<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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De brekende zee. Een woedende reus<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vertilt zich aan een gebergte.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Een vlo verdrinkt in een druppel water.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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En toch trekken vier van zijn soortgenoten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het zilveren koetsje waarin, op een troontje gezeten,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de koningin, al haast niet meer zichtbaar,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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luid toegejuicht door gepeupel, rijken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en armen van geest, naar haar paleis rijdt,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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of naar het schavot.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Heldhaftig verleden: duizenden dagen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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verdringen zich om een standbeeld.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 154]<\/div>\r\n

Voor de zondvloed<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Woorden zo licht alsof zij niet<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gesproken zijn sinds mensen in de taal<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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elkaar naar ‘t leven staan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De kwinkslag van een vis<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in water dat nog onbezoedeld is.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De taal der vogels. De bewegende schriftuur<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van vlinders in de warme lucht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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De stand der bloemen, het verschil<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in kleuren die zich tot de teerste tinten<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vermenigvuldigen. De wellust<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ook van die vermenigvuldiging.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
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Optiek<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Goed kijken! Maar als je goed kijkt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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verdwijnt het beminde gezicht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het gehate gezicht onttrekt zich<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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aan de zich scherpende blik.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Geen oogbal zo groot om een gek te bevatten.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het mes springt op uit de hand.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Punaises keren zich om in de wand.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
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Over dit hoofdstuk\/artikel<\/h3>\n

Bertien de Moor<\/a><\/p>\n
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[p. 148] Adriaan Morri\u00ebn Acht gedichten Onweer a.d. 1923 \u00a0 Dondergerommel in de verte. \u00a0 Moeder ging overal de ramen sluiten. \u00a0 Vader legde de krant opzij. \u00a0 De kinderen staakten hun spel. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Windvlagen. Stof dwarrelde omhoog. \u00a0 De eerste grote regendruppels. Hagel. \u00a0 En dan weer stilte. Het werd heel donker…. 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