Bergambacht by Ulrich Jeltema

Bergambacht I wander along the Lekdyke and smell Bergambacht, herbs from the past. Polderwind blowing along the mills Bachtenaar, Den Arend, grinding for water and bread beyond the Vlist, beyond the last sin. And there the church inexorably large between upward-looking dwarf-like houses. Autumn in the sky: a piled-up mass of clouds secretly blows open for holes to the sun, for fingers of light. That's God's vindictive hand, pressing against the shire's land, against this bare soil, the people who are goddamned afraid to die.

Ulrich Jeltema (1923-2005) [no picture available]

Original title: Bergambacht - From: De tweede ronde, Tijdschrift voor literatuur, Zomer 1982 - Uitgeverij Bert Bakker BV, Amsterdam.