
Weaving down the street, narrowly missing stragglers
not dodging when I bear down on them with impatient
tread, dreaming about visiting Russia one day, feeling
the passion and warmth of a people so different from
us, whose inner life is important to survive the cold
While we live outside ourselves, without introspection
because the weather calls us forth all the time, great
weather even in winter, grumbling if cloud cover dare
cover the sun for too long; what is it like where the sun
does not shine; melancholic grey skies, freezing white
Forcing all to remain indoors, to develop reverence for
art and beauty, for classical ballet, where innocence
survived the cold calculation of consumerism, where
rebels tried to free a nation from religious political
oppression, bringing about terrible upheaval
I wonder about the things I have read while remembering
Ivan Rebroff’s deep, velvet rendition of my favourite
song, Langehovens Lullaby for Liefstetjie
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/apr/18/obituaries.culture
Ivan Rebroff, epitome of a Russian singer, was born
Hans-Rolf Rippert in Berlin's Spandau district. His
engineer father came from Hessen, while his
mother, he said, was Russian.
Afrikaanse Wiegeliedjie, Lamtietie Damtietie by
C. J. Langenhoven (Emiel Hullebroeck)
Lam tie tie, dam tie tie, doe doe my liefstetjie,
moederhartrowertjie, dierbaarste diefstetjie

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