Dear madam, you have
very gentle songs,
the wind chimes in the tower eaves
peal in accompaniment,
and today's hat fits as though made for your head,
as if you were General Flowers’ wife.

Madam, today please take your pills
a little bit earlier.
The girlish assistant nurse
is flushing and she hopes
to get off work early today,
because today is Midsummer's Eve.
Happiness awaits.

Everybody gets their share
which never runs out
stacked on your shoulders,
all the evil and good that you've found
can't be hidden away.
We plough our own furrow
that one day will vanish,
either later or sooner.
The winds will stay,
the winds know, and they'll sing about us—

Dear sir, you have very anguished eyes
The sunshades by the garden make the days tolerable.
And those shadows from the past
that visit you at night
In daylight seem completely harmless.
The old musician's pride lifts the lid on the piano in the dining room.
No rest for him today,
the joyful waltzes, the padespaans,
his gnarled hands pound them out
because today is Midsummer's Eve.
The wind swells.