We are as if in the waiting room,
Waiting for the new time to come,
Impatiently asking always:
Is it still not near?
And now and then, one hears noises,
And one listens and thinks: Stop,
If I am not greatly mistaken,
This door will open soon.
It is within a hair’s breadth,
That things will change profoundly,
Yet, over the years,
We have been wrong too often.
No wonder that we are resigned,
After many a dream has dissipated,
And that we often lose courage
In our dreary waiting room.
We scarcely dare to hope any longer,
That this time will come to an end,
And yet, one day, the door will bust open,
Yes, I know it for sure.
It is a moment of consecration,
For before us stands the new time,
And says: now it is your turn,
Show now, what kind of spirit you are.
Post-Editing: Hanny Veenendaal
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