April and Silence
Spring lies deserted.
The velvet-dark ditch
crawls by my side
without reflections.
All that shine
are yellow flowers.
I'm carried in my shadow
like a violin
in its black case.
The only thing I want to say
gleams out of reach
like the silver
in a pawnshop.
Landscape with Suns
The sun emerges from behind the house
stands in the middle of the street
and breathes on us
with its red wind.
Innsbruck I must leave you.
But tomorrow
there will be a glowing sun
in the gray, half-dead forest
where we must work and live.
The Light Streams In
Outside the window, the long beast of spring
the transparent dragon of sunlight
rushes past like an endless
commuter train — we never caught a glimpse of
its head.
The beach houses moving sideways
they are proud as crabs.
The sun makes the statues blink.
The sea of fire rages out in space
becomes a soft touch on the earth.
The countdown has begun.
_____________________________
Tomas Transtromer
The Sorrow Gondola
translated by Michael McGriff & Mikaela Grassel
Green Integer, 2010
visiting more of the tiny books,
ever gems, and typing up these
handful of the fine Swedish poet's
poems during the day of the insurrection
(January 6, 2021) on the nation's capitol
where at least one person has been killed,
and as will be said for years and years —
if this mob had been BLM activists, or peaceful activists —
instead of a mostly white sedition army who broke
into the capitol and ran amok — there would
have been mass bloodshed. Idiots first.
[ BA ]
