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DE MAN DIJ GOIE PAKKEN DROUG
Ik dailde t ber mit n man dij goie pakken droug, schounen
om veur op knijen te goan.
Zien oorkes haar hai volstopt mit muziek.
 
Ien n veujoar gruide n stroekje verstandege opmaarkens
oet zien mond. t Stroekje wer n boom
en man verdween ien grond.
 
Nou droag ik zien pakken, ze zitten mie wat krap,
net zoas mien toentje onderhand
te klaain wordt veur de boom.
 
De waarkelkhaid aanvoard ik.
 
Der is mor waaineg informoatsie neudeg
om wereld te begriepen.
THE MAN WHO WORE GOOD SUITS
I shared my bed with a man who wore good suits, shoes
to go down on your knees for.
He had stuffed his ears full of music.
 
One spring a bush of sensible remarks grew
out of his mouth. The bush became a tree
and the man disappeared into the ground.
 
Now I wear his suits, they’re a bit tight on me,
just as my garden is gradually
getting too small for the tree.
 
I accept reality.
 
Only a little information is needed
to comprehend the world.