Dordrecht

Your sky always slightly

blue

Morning often slightly

wet

Lovely Dordrecht

Tomb

Of my precious illusions

When I try to draw

Your canals, your roofs, your steeple

I feel I could love

A homeland

Still sun and church bells

Dry out quickly

For high mass, also brioches

And gleaming steeple

Your sky

So often wet,

But always underneath

A bit stays blue.