not understood

still understood nothing

did not understand anything

never understood

not understood

we move on separately:

our paths are widening

with the creep of

the seasons over the years

we amaze and marvel

why life is life

and then we fall asleep

not understood

not understood

we collect false impressions

and embrace it more firmly

as the years go by

until virtues often seem transgressions to us

and so one rises and falls

and lives and dies

not understood

not understood

poor souls with retarded vision

often measuring giants with their narrow sizes

the poisoned arrows of falsehood and scorn

often urged by those who model the century,

not understood

not understood

the secret drives of action

that lie beneath the surface and show,

ignored, with self-righteousness

we condemn our neighbors

and they often go

not understood

not understood,

how a bagatel often changes us

the ill-considered sentence and the capricious contempt

destroys years of friendship and alienates us

and a frozen ugliness falls on our souls

not understood

not understood

how many chests are in pain

for lack of compassion

well… day after day

how many desolate lonely hearts are broken

how many noble spirits die

not understood

ah ...

that one would like to see more clearly

or judging less sharply where nothing can be seen

ah ...

that people would like to get closer to each other

and more

each other

and understand.

still not understood something

understood something

understood

(poem by wanda ottes, original in Dutch)