Zjeng en Pie, twee kameraote,
lepe nao de kèrk touw,
nog twee dag en daan waar ’t Paose,
de kèrk waar die vaan Slevrouw.

“iech dörf neet,” zag toen eus Pieke,
“Iech bin zoelang neet mie geweest.”
“Zègk miech ins wat mot iech beechte ?”
“Beechte vin iech gaar gei fees.”

“Dat is niks” zag toen rund Zjengske,
“Diech motos nao deben douve toon”
“Zing veur mien paart meh e leeds je”
“dee patter kin dice neet verstoon.”

Pieke ging de beechstool binne,
Zóng ’t leedje “laot mer goon…”
de pater keek toen nao eus Pieke
en zag: “Luuster miene beste zoon.”

“Es diech wèlt lamme beechte”
“Gebruik daan ins die groet verstand”
“de zits in de verkeerde beechstool”
“d’n douve zit aon d’n euverkant.”

©Jean van Gasteren

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it brought me back,
I wasn’t from there,
I lived in a room,
where no one seems to know,
who I am.

it brought me back,
to myself, who I really was.
I lived underground,
where no daylight seems to know,
who I am.

it brought me back,
where war seems normal
and fights started when they died.
I live in a world
I don’t know where I belong.

it brought me back,
to my second thoughts,
when I found myself in thoughts,

“Please let me die”.

I want to spread the words

“Stop War”

Please don’t let me die

Take me
Put me
Back in life
Please
Let me live a life

I told you my story
please don’t let it be yours

©Jean van Gasteren

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