Aye,
small scabious and touch-me-not lavishly blossomed
but the blue express train had been standing still for years
It was in the village of Shagging brings Tranquillity

The village houses trembled with compassion
and their sun lounges dolefully bleated ‘What a pity'
Robins watched in sorrow, the small scabious wilted
Oh, the express train stood quite still, just had to perish

Aye,
that's how, the village idiot played the stationmaster,
spilt coffee on papers, forged names of stations,
rapped harshly on the carriages (contraband! stowaways!)

Oh decay
soon set in; the destinations flaked off; experts
declared the express a slow train; the village idiot dragged in
paint and fire; variety arts were thriving …

Aye,
clouds, robins, touch-me-nots, small scabious,
that at the bitter end the train, stumbling, hurried on
was thanks to all of you and you alone
Translation: 2008, Willem Groenewegen