dichter

Change is in the air. Perhaps it’s the season – leaves turning, clocks changing – that makes people leave or change. The Belgian prime minister is one who seems to be on the move: Herman Van Rompuy, the quieter of the two political brothers, the financial wizard always dressed in boring brown, always two steps out of the limelight.

A couple of years ago, he reluctantly became Speaker of the Belgian House of Representatives and last year was dragged struggling to become prime minister.

It’s then that he started rubbing shoulders with Sarkozy and Merkel and the like. Now, such are his charms that he seems to have slipped past T Blair on the inside track and is the favourite for the new president’s chair of the European Council.

I once heard him speak at a local political meeting. Unlike his TV image, in the flesh he was much taller, and he spoke eloquently without notes for 40 minutes with his audience hanging on his every word. Clearly the lesson here is if you must wear brown, don’t do so on television.

He has also become een dichter – a poet. A master of the haiku, in fact – verses of up to 14 syllables. In recent press conferences, he has avoided saying anything about Europe, radiates reluctance and spouts haiku. His most recent is about the upcoming joint EU presidency with Hungary and Spain: Drie golven rollen / Samen de haven binnen / Het trio is thuis – Three waves roll / Into the harbour / The trio is home.

Perhaps his most famous is one I wish I had written: Haren in de wind / Na jaren is er nog wind / Helaas geen haren – Hair blows in the wind / After years there is still wind / Sadly no more hair.

As you read the haiku on his website, you soon realise how many-sided HVR is. What do you make of this? Winterse, witte / vlokken heb ik lief. / Korte romance – Wintery white / flakes I love. / Short romance. Is he flighty or is he a rock? De wind rolt en raast / ontketend tot een orkaan / maar in mij geen storm – The wind rolls and rages / grown to a hurricane / but in me no storm. Another autumnal verse is a potted psalm: Jaar na jaar steeds meer / worden de zomers korter / en de herfst langer – Year after year / the summers are ever shorter / and the autumns longer.

I’m more of a prose performer than a versifier, but let me try to match Herman: De toekomst nadert / niet, maar ik steek / de baan over – the future is not approaching but I cross the road. No, I don’t understand that myself. Thankfully, I have 450 words in which to couch my thoughts.

http://hermanvanrompuy.typepad.com/haiku

Alistair MacLean

(November 11, 2009)