silhouettes
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so this is the land of the pallissades
those low rows of poles
stitching the shore to the sea
you arrived by train
in this land, you had never been before
how could it be that you left us with a poem
about this land that made you disappear
you arrived by train
but you left us with a poem
you arrived by train
but you left us with a poem
i like those low rows of poles
~the pallisades~
that run from the shore into the sea
~the pallisades~
lined up as frozen souls
just standing there
in ecstasy
sand, sea and air
all is spaciously wide
and grand, and mighty generous
but they live in modesty
by it’s side
and they they stand there
they guard us
i like them low rows of poles
~the pallisades~
that run from the shore into the sea
~the pallisades~
lined up as frozen souls
just standing there
in ecstasy
drunk, and rushed
by mortal red sunsets
the waves, are claiming supremacy
but in front of them stand
these silhouettes
they stand there, in serenity
they keep watch
they keep watch
they keep watch
it was my father's wish to have a poem read at his funeral ~ at first we didn't know the author and the title ~ however, with a little help of a friend, we found it was by jan prins and is specifically about the region where my father’s heart stopped beating ~ a place where he was just passing by ~ is it a coincidence or did it just have to be that way?
in addition to credits page: lyrics partially based on the poem 'zwarte hoofden' by jan prins, translated by hs
play full screen, volume loud, stare at the center and be patient
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