Saturday, March 27, 2021



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 ]