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OOHHH THE RUSTLE OF THE FLANDERS' REEDS

We woke up to a glorious Spring day and decided on a drive along small winding roads in the country-side of Le Plat Pays, my Flanders.

It is so fabulously flat and far-stretching, the meadows and fields seamed off by the water-sucking willows, pruned again and again in their particular way, so that they form a 'knobbly' head.

The dividing water canals are festooned with waving slender reeds, they inspired many a poet, none more than Guido Gezelle:

O 't ruisschen van het ranke riet !

O wist ik toch uw droevig lied !

Wanneer de wind voorbij u voert

En buigend uwe halmen roert

Gij buigt, ootmoedig zwijgend neêr

Staat op en buigt ootmoedig weêr

En zingt al buigend 't droevig lied

Dat ik bemin, o ranke riet !

 

 

(loosely translated in English...

O 't rustling of the slender reed!

O to know your sad song!

When the wind carries you over

And bowing moves yours stalks

You bow, humbly silently down,

Rise and humbly bow again

and sing, all the while bending, the sad song

That I love, O slender reed! )

 

This is very Flemish! The waving reeds, the 'Knot' willows, yes I was home for a moment...

Thanx and have a lovely day, M, (*_*)

 

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Uploaded on March 26, 2009
Taken on March 26, 2009