I looked at the sky and at the earth and straight ahead and since then I’ve been writing a long letter to the dead on a typewriter with no ribbon just a horizon line so the words knock in vain and nothing sticks. — Tomas Tranströmer, from “Baltics,” The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems, translated… Continue reading Tomas Tranströmer
Friendship needs no words – it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness. ― Dag Hammarskjöld
Evenings I sit in the hostel kitchen, writing, with a pot of strong tea and a candle for comfort. The immense quiet is broken only by those snaps and creaks that inhabit old houses. I am partial to old things: old peeling doors, rusty gates, overgrown paths. Old things know how to relinquish the past;… Continue reading Janice D. Soderling
There’s a tree walking around in the rain, it rushes past us in the pouring grey. It has an errand. It gathers life out of the rain like a blackbird in an orchard. When the rain stops so does the tree. There it is, quiet on clear nights waiting as we do for the moment… Continue reading Tomas Tranströmer
Moths settle down on the pane: small pale telegrams from the world. — Tomas Tranströmer, from “Lamento,” The Half-Finished Heaven: The Best Poems of Tomas Transtromer. (Graywolf Press; 2nd prt. edition October 1, 2001) Originally published 1962.
When the night falls I stand on the stairs and listen, the stars swarm in the garden and I stand out in the darkness. Hear, a star fell with a clang. Do not walk on the grass with bare feet; my garden is full of shards. — Edith Södergran, “The Stars,” Love and Solitude: Selected… Continue reading Edith Södergran
I am carried in my shadow like a violin in its black case. The only thing I want to say glitters out of reach like the silver in a pawnbroker’s. —Tomas Tranströmer, from “April and Silence,” The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems, translated from the Swedish by Robin Fulton (New Directions Books, 2006)