I. Vroegherfs

This is one of my favourite poems. It really expresses my hearts desire.

It’s about a man who asks the Lord to strip him naked of pride, vanity, licentious, and everything sinful like He does with the trees in autumn.

Die jaar word ryp in goue akkerblare,
in wingerd wat verbruin, in witter lug
wat daglank vand die nuwe wind en klare
son deurspoel word; elke blom word vrug,
tot selfs die traagstes; en die eerste blare val
so stilweg in die rook-vaal bos en laan,
dat die takke van die lang populiere al
teen elke ligte môre witter staan.
O Heer, laat hierdie dae heilig word:
laat alles val wat pronk en sieraad was
of enkel jeug, en vér was van pyn;
laat ryp word, Heer, laat U wind waai, laat stort
my waan, tot al die hoogheid eindelik vas
en nakend uit my teerder jeug verskyn.

NP van Wyk Louw
Deel I van Vier Gebede By Jaargetye in die Boland

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