WHEN I AWOKE

I heard the rain fall loudly. A waterdrop day it will be probably, blipwise, I thought.
Yesterday evening bfore I fell asleep I read a poem wriiten by Ryokan. a japanese zen poet (18th century). The title: Poem on the early autumn.
After a night of rainfall
The path towards the village is covered with water. etc.
Reading the poem a memory from my youth came into my mind.
For the saturday morning class all children who would want it, could memorize a poem and recite it for everyone to hear.
Every Friday night I see myself sitting upon my bed memorizing a poem, mostly a short one, only now and then a long one. The poems were sentimental lovely impressions (I think) and I cherished them all.
Then one night there was a concert, a singer who lived in our town gave a recital and one song was The Erlkönig balad, poem by Goethe, music by Schubert.
This went deep into my heart, the beauty of it shocked me and left me speechless.
When the next Friday night came I could not resist to write a poem based on what I had heard and understood of the poem.
The next morning as usual I recited a poem, my poem. But in my naïvety I had simply overlooked the fact that the poem was very much known.
And my classmates objected fervently. At least some of them. I think I was eleven or twelve years old.
A rainy dark day it was, my scenery here has not any longer the fairy tale green but the whole area is dark green tinted. The wisteria in the garden soft purple and the waterdrops enchanted me.

My haiku:

In my poem I try
To empathize with myself
Murmuring my words

And the proverb (I am back to the thick dutch book):

Het komt uit de lengte of the breedte.

Translation:

It must come from somewhere.