The Vecht
Slowly the water of the Vecht glides,
without haste, without ostentation,
from the Munsterland on its way to the Zwarte Water.

For centuries, it has carried stories with it.
On its banks, my ancestors earned their daily bread:
as ferryman, farmer, farmhand, and skipper,
living to the rhythm of the ever-flowing river.

Perhaps that is why
the Vecht still flows a little
through my own veins.