Each hour I brood upon your goodness, so simple in its depth, I lose myself in prayers to you.
I came so late towards the gentleness of your eyes, and from so far towards your two hands stretched out quietly over the wide spaces.
I had in me so much stubborn rust that gnawed my confidence with its ravenous teeth.
I was so heavy, I was so tired, I was so old with misgiving.
I was so heavy, I was so tired of the vain road of all my footsteps.
I deserved so little the wondrous joy of seeing your feet illuminate my path that I am still trembling and almost in tears, and humble, for ever and ever, before my happiness.
Emile Verhaeren (1855 - 1916) Belgium
Translated by F.S. Flint
Source: The love poems of Emile Verhaeren, Translated by F.S. Flint, Constable and Co., 1916
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