Wednesday, August 18, 2010

music, sound, silence...

the five bowers are bowing. i go home through warm woods
where the earth is springy under my feet
curl up like someone still unborn, sleep, roll on
so weightlessly into the future, suddenly understand
that plants are thinking.

tomas transtomer,
excerpt from the poem schubertiana,
from parabola magazine, 1980

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

VI - Back in 1990

Dreamt i drove in vain two hundred kilometers

Then, everything enlarged. Sparrows as big
as hens
sang in a deafening mode.

Dreamt i drew piano keys
on the kitchen table. Played
mutely on them.

The neighbours came to listen.

* third-phase-translation of a fragment from the poem "Funereal Gondola Nr. 2", by Tomas Tranströmer.

5:19 PM  

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