In the morning 

IN THE MORNING

The day was cold
a market-seller cried
his wares through the streets
cut the heads off the fish
with a sharp knife
and scraped off their scales

The sun rose motionless over the rooftops
the moist veil of night
still not quite fully lifted
and hammers beat loose the morning
with heavy, heavy blows

A tramp sat
on the ground against the wall
with frozen one guilders
in the cup of his hand
purple contrast to grey stone
hard and flat

The sun rose motionless over the rooftops
the moist veil of night
still not quite fully lifted
and hammers beat loose the morning
with heavy, heavy blows

The middle class was also up
was hanging out flags cleaning windows
drinking coffee and once more
out scrubbing the doorstep

The sun rose motionless over the rooftops
the moist veil of night
still not quite fully lifted
and hammers beat loose the morning
with heavy, heavy blows.

© Tjitse Hofman, 1999
© translation John Irons, 2000
original title: Per ochtend, from TV 2000, Passage Publishing Company, Groningen, 1999