{"id":302373,"date":"1992-01-01T00:00:48","date_gmt":"1991-12-31T23:00:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/h-h-ter-balkt-10\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T15:42:55","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T14:42:55","slug":"h-h-ter-balkt-10","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/h-h-ter-balkt-10\/","title":{"rendered":"H.H. ter Balkt"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 313]<\/div>\r\n<\/a>\r\n

\r\nH.H. ter Balkt<\/i>\r\n<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Laaglandse hymnen<\/h4>\r\n\r\n

St\u00e8le van Mir\u00f3<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
\r\nvoor Klaus van de Locht<\/i>\r\n<\/blockquote>\r\n\r\n
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Schapen niet meer: enkel de hongerige wolf. Hak-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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selmachines op de horizon herkauwen onzichtbaar<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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wat hun invalt. Op het kerkplein zindert zon en<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hier binnen zinderen Klaus’ aquarellen; ook zijn<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vissen, rauw afgedrukt op de steen. Zelfs de Rijn<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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is – wellicht – een vorm van pijn. Zoals de voeten,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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gespierd naderend; zoals de stemmen, al z\u00f3 lang<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vergeten wat hen dreef. Kwart-monden, halve kelen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Sneller dan avondwolven is de vijand die op ons<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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jaagt: Habakuk schreef dat, op een dode-zeerol,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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in een dor gebied gevonden. Op de St\u00e8le van Mir\u00f3<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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brandt een oranje zon boven wat wel een landschap<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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moet zijn – zonder rivier. Er is een witte ster. Er<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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wortelt hier, in ons, de sterke wil om te bestaan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

\u2018Schapen niet meer: enkel de hongerige wolf\u2019. Anoniem Grieks epigram (vert. Ida Gerhardt)<\/p>\r\n\r\n

[p. 314]<\/div>\r\n

Laaglandse hymnen<\/h4>\r\n\r\n

Eet niet mee met je halsafsnijders<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Een ster in de ruit van ‘t huis beduidt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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lichtloze nacht. In de beduimelde tuin<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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– als bij Pinokkio’s geschilderde vuur –<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kookt een flauw zonnetje gezandstraalde<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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kruiden; traptreden vermolmd als de voet-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zool op treden in ‘t veraste, al eeuwen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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geleden verkoold Pompe\u00ef; geen vogel die<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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fluit in de heesters, bij zwart af neer-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hangend boven de kookpot waar een lam<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zachtjes blakert. Eet niet mee, ga niet<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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door die deur naast de hemeltergende ster.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Blijf op de terrassen, in de bossen, bij<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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je oude aura. De vampiers die harten uit-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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snijden, laat ze bij hun grijs vuur alleen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 315]<\/div>\r\n

Laaglandse hymnen<\/h4>\r\n\r\n

Het korenveld<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Zenegroen; vogelmelk; als gespreksstof<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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tussen berken, ontgaat ons veel. Geler<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dan het korenveld geen gebouw op aarde<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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– en dit theater van ‘t brood heft veel<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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geel gelach omhoog, doorkriebeld, diep<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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bij zijn voetlicht, van muizepootjes en<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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korenbloem- en vogelvoet. Blauwer trilt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hitte boven ‘t korenveld dan boven vijf<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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steden met hun trottoirs. En eenmaal op<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het korenveld binder geweest of maaier,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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alle stalen aren leggen zich voor jou<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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neer, de een of andere dag. O vrees niet<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de zeis als je gewandeld hebt, in en bij<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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het korenveld, de nietigste kathedraal.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 316]<\/div>\r\n

Laaglandse hymnen<\/h4>\r\n\r\n

Moed en kracht<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Zoals de poot van Willie uit de kist krult,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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innig alsof zij iets vasthoudt, zo rolt dit<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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voorjaar met een vrolijk rock ‘n roll, rond<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de bereklauw de aarde uit; \u2018moed en kracht\u2019<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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lijken zijn bladeren en stengels te zeggen;<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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niets is nog verloren zolang bere- en katte-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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klauwen nog in iets geloven, en de seringen-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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bloesem als een stevig baken tegen de hemel<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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staat. Laat, hoofden, dan jullie blues varen,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de grindafgravingen op! Onder de lamp ligt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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versteend koraal uit een dichtgewaaide zee;<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dat is toch geen reden om te versagen! \u2018Moed<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en kracht\u2019, roepen ook de kauwen en duiven,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en helder klinken de voetstappen op straat.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 317]<\/div>\r\n

Laaglandse hymnen<\/h4>\r\n\r\n

Spreuken om een ets van de rivier de Itchen en vier andere te onttoveren<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
\r\naan Geert Lubberhuizen<\/i>\r\n<\/blockquote>\r\n\r\n
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Berg je nu voor de kunst, werkelijkheid. Deze Itchen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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die geenszins de Itchen is, achter de slagboom ont-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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sprongen aan gasvlammen, ontsnapt aan zijn bronnen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Anti-etsnaald, ontbind de riempjes die de loodzware<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ransel boven ons landschap houden. Welk, laffe wel-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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sprekende wikke bij de ruiten waar de tolman huist;<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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weerlicht, bliksem, tref ‘t hart van de wiggendrijver,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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de jodium lach van uithangbordenschilders die radio-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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actieve uithangborden verven. Red haar die wreed lot<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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trof door een instrument, het mijne, in de roltongen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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van verbuigers en verwoesters; van uitzetters van<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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averechtse sporen. Achter slagbomen: Big Ben van de<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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big bang van verwoesting, word fluistering; en zweef<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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zacht, witte bladzij, uit de zwarte boeken vandaan.<\/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

H.H. ter Balkt<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[p. 313] H.H. ter Balkt Laaglandse hymnen St\u00e8le van Mir\u00f3 voor Klaus van de Locht \u00a0 Schapen niet meer: enkel de hongerige wolf. Hak- \u00a0 selmachines op de horizon herkauwen onzichtbaar \u00a0 wat hun invalt. Op het kerkplein zindert zon en \u00a0 hier binnen zinderen Klaus’ aquarellen; ook zijn \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 vissen, rauw afgedrukt… Lees verder <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","class_list":["post-302373","dbnl","type-dbnl","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nH.H. ter Balkt · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/h-h-ter-balkt-10\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"H.H. ter Balkt · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"[p. 313] H.H. ter Balkt Laaglandse hymnen St\u00e8le van Mir\u00f3 voor Klaus van de Locht \u00a0 Schapen niet meer: enkel de hongerige wolf. Hak- \u00a0 selmachines op de horizon herkauwen onzichtbaar \u00a0 wat hun invalt. Op het kerkplein zindert zon en \u00a0 hier binnen zinderen Klaus’ aquarellen; ook zijn \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 vissen, rauw afgedrukt... 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