As new letters are added words begin to form, then sentences and finally verses.
The poem, as it currently stands, read as follows.
(The poem is machine translated using the service of Google Translate, so probably its bad translation.
But to be honest, its a mess.)
You have to start somewhere to give the past a place, the present is getting less and less.
The further you are, the better.
Go ahead now,
Leave your tracks.
Forget the flash where it’s possible for you to exist, the world is your itinerary.
Was there a time that you had another, which passed.
You’re the other one already.
You are, as you know, the center of this story.
Who has the time.
Go therefore and revel in your story.
Tell us who you are with each step.
In our story we disappear eventually, and only you remain over time.
You and these letters, which are cut out of stone.
Like the letters on our grave.
The cracks in the cathedral.
Raised to the sky like an index finger, to indicate the guilty and demand more time.
So we can go up straight, like people along the canal.
They stare at their feet.
See Utrechts churches protruding above ground level.
Raise your hands, beg with the towers to be this privileged.
To be, to be now.
The weather is nice.
Life is witness to your gaze on the horizon.
Your footsteps connect the past with written letters.
All seasons recognize themselves …
So far seven poets have contributed to different sections of the poem.
Once a section ends, another poet picks it up from where it left and continues.
The part that is not yet published is kept a secret.
Photo credit:Peter Nederlof/Flickr
Photo credit:Dick Sijtsma/Flickr
