Vincent Van Gogh at Zundert
Zundert, your native village, left its mark upon you forever... its black fields, the blue sky with white clouds...
We will always keep something of the Brabant heath and ploughed fields... When the night came, we would go back to Zundert,
father and I, we would go for walks in the heath and the sun was turning red
and the evening air was reflected on the marshes. O Jerusalem, O Jerusalem, or better: O Zundert, O Zundert!
As a young boy, I remember the heath and the small farms, the weaving looms and the spinning wheels. And when you go back there...
The churchyard was silent, I saw these small places and these lanes... and I was waiting for the sunrise. You know the story of resurrection. That very morning, everything reminded me of that In that silent churchyard...