Babel- electronic - translation
He is back. He is. Definitively, certainly know. This morning during my daily steps with little son to school, religious beth midrash are, he was there. Nicely lifts in the morning. Not yet too is cold. Coloured bougainvillea and morning morning-glories, viollet oranje and blue. Then the BethYisraelstraat lain on, left the city, lower. Straight forward, the hillocks, the mountains. We on 3oo meters, they five a six hundred meters above the sea mirror. Zoontje of six are surprised just as, yes it is its face, familiair face, I have you lief vadertje. Looks at on asks. The bybeltraktaat of these yielded, the tale of Mozes which twelve spionnen sent to the holy country, from the desert. To the country Kenaa'an. They are there with ze'n twelve. The twelve tribes Israels on mission. For each tribe. Why father, asks my sweet son, why is Jozef in the text only named after at its oldest zoon and are hushed up at enumerating its youngest zoon? A biblical question, of son of six. He thinks after, he must, however, with this way a learning master waiting for him. He must be allert. Those knapen survive and rigid with all, stiffe masters. Religion. The clerus. Suddenly a visioen. My fathers book, are bijbelkomentaren. I loved my father. I hou of him. Seven years since the separation, have been dead. And nevertheless I feel him still, restlessly. We went away still together with the Leuven Flemish processions. Antwerp town park. Later its diploma distribution in Leuven. Myself a little boss of six for a weekend with father on studentenkot. At Fons and Lionel. The environment of the saint sabath mixed with those of the from division. Leuven 1966.
I am present busy with father is bijbelkomentaren. I will pour in boekvorm. Hard labeur. To be spitsvondigheden. Terrible orginal. Sometimes dared, in the degree of tradition permitted and the old. I work for its texten, take ups, talmoedteksten, comparisons, interpretations. Entirely educational with higher, the Kaballa. Suddenly that visioen. Question of my little son of six, is naamdrager, exhaustively father, its father, was explained and was commented. Two chapters from that bulky book. Here we are then the tale start again. No progressively line only new a cycle. Small little boss is busy with which was wise old boss. We step further, I see their identical can, their and body construction, their same motoriek, same smile, same cadans. We step further. What was and what will be. Together. Just for a moment I feel it warm affectionately light. Relaxing and eternal. Little son I am fond of you. It goes you good. The learning staff should be mercifull to you. Bel-honoured and gentle. It goes you well, my curly-head.