On a winter morning you feel how this earth plunges ahead. Against the house walls an air current smacks out of hiding. Surrounded by movement: the tent of calm. And the secret helm in the migrating flock. Out of the winter gloom a tremolo rises from hidden instruments. It is like standing under summer’s high… Continue reading Tomas Tranströmer
But I would never kiss anyone who doesn’t burn me like the sun. — Jens Lekman
Throughout those dismal months my life was only sparkedalight when I made love to you. As the firefly ignites and fades, ignites and fades, we followthe flashes of its flight in the dark among the olive trees. Throughout those dismal months, my soul sat slumped andlifeless but my body walked to yours. The night sky… Continue reading Tomas Tranströmer
The mailbox shines calmly, what is written cannot be taken back.A mild chilly wind blows through my shirt and gropes around for my heart. — Tomas Tranströmer, from “Late May,” Bright Scythe: Selected Poems by Tomas Tranströmer (Sarabande Books, 2015)
A blue sheen radiates from my clothes. Midwinter. Jangling tambourines of ice. I close my eyes. There is a soundless world there is a crack where dead people are smuggled across the border. — Tomas Tranströmer, “Midwinter,” Poetry International 2012. Translation: 2002, Robin Fulton.
the silence drinks the slow autumn rain which no longer makes anything good grow the folded hands warm each other the stiff looks fade among the live coals — Gunnar Ekelöf, from “Mirrror of October,” Friends, You Drank Some Darkness, Three Swedish Poets: Harry Martinson, Gunnar Ekelöf & Tomas Tranströmer (Beacon Press, 1975)
Solitary Swedish Houses A mix-max of black spruce and smoking moonbeams. Here’s the croft lying low and not a sign of life. Till the morning dew murmurs and an old man opens – with a shaky hand – his window and lets out an owl. Further off, the new building stands steaming with the laundry… Continue reading Tomas Tranströmer