*Van 1668. - Afgedrukt volgens de tekst der afzonderlike uitgave in plano (Unger, no. 705).
Opschrift: Maria van den Vondel, dochter van Vondel's zoon Joost en diens eerste vrouw, Aeltje van Bancken, werd in 1648 te Amsterdam geboren, stierf daar 7 Dec. 1668 en. werd 17 Dec. in de Nieuwe kerk begraven. Zie over haar Sterck, Oorkonden, blz. 208-13. Zie voor het motto deel 8, blz. 721.

5-8Weerklank van de bekende rei uit Lucifer (vs. 281-300).

8omvang: omtrek, begrenzing (Ned. Wdb. X, 671).

12Van: door.

13-14Al het goede dat in de geschapen wereld bij kleine gedeelten verspreid ligt.

16springaêr: bronader.

17herquam: afkomstig is.

18verschoven: verworpen.

21waelt: gaat onzeker heen en weer; de lely: de kompasnaald in de vorm van een heraldieke lelie (Ned. Wdb. VIII, 1536).

22de zeilsteen: de steen die de kompasnaald magneties maakt.

23de starlichte as: de Noordster aan de hemelpool.

24wit: doel; versteeken: verstoten, afgehouden.

FROM THE MORNING by Arsenii Tarskovsky

From the morning I was waiting for you yesterday,

They guessed that you wouldn't come,

Do you remember the weather?

Like a feast day! And I went out without a coat.

Today you came, and they have fixed for us

An especially gloomy day,

And the rain, and the especially late hour,

And the drops are running along the cold branches.

They can't be calmed with a word, nor dried with a cloth…

AS A CHILD... by Arsenii Tarskovsky

As a child I once fell ill

From fear and hunger. I’d scratched off the scab

From my lips and licked my lips; I remembered

The cool and salty taste.        

But still I go, but still I go, I go,

I sit on the front stairs and warm myself,

Delirious, I wander as though to follow

The tune of the pied-piper to the river,

I warm myself on the stairs, consumed by fever.

But mother stands and beckons, she seems

Not far away but unapproachable:

I approach a little, it’s only seven steps,

She beckons, I approach but she still stands

Only seven steps away, she beckons.

Heat

Grips me, I undid my collar and laid down –

And trumpets started trumpeting, my eyelids

Were struck by light, and horses galloped, mother

Is flying above the cobblestones, she beckons –

And vanished…

And now I dream

Beneath the apple trees, a white ward,

And the white bed-sheet beneath my throat,

And the white doctor looks down at me,

And the white nurse stands beside my feet

Ruffling her wings. And they remained.

But mother came and beckoned –

And vanished…

EURYDICE by Arsenii Tarkovsky

A human has a body

Just one, like one alone,

The soul has had enough

Of its continuous frame

With all its ears and eyes

The size of a silver coin

And skin like scarves on scarves,

As if hung on a rack.

It flies out through the cornea

Into the heavenly clearness,

Upon the icy spoke,

Upon the bird-drawn chariot

And listens through the bars

Of its own living prison

To the crack of woods and fields,

To the horn of seven seas.

A bodiless soul is shameful,

Like a body without its garment, -

No reasoning or deed,

No impetus or line.

A riddle without solution:

Who will return again,

From dancing on that stage,

Where nobody is dancing?

And I dream of another

Soul dressed in different clothes:

It burns and runs across

From timidity to hope,

With fire that leaves the earth,

Like spirit without a shadow,

Leaving a bunch of lilac

On the table for remembrance.

Run, child, don't lament

For poor Eurydice,

And chase your copper hoop

With a stick around the world,

While, still hardly audible,

Joyfully and dryly,

In answer to each step

The earth resounds in your ears.