Nov 29, 2014

Poetry Solace: winter's formulae

No, winter is not coming, it's already here.. ^.^ Anyway, this week, I'm sharing one final poem from Tomas Tranströmer called 'winter's formulae' as translated by May Swenson..

Winter's Formulae
I went to sleep in my bed
and awoke under the keel.

In the morning, four o'clock,
when bones, scoured clean,
collect together coldly.

I went to sleep among swallows
and awoke among eagles.

In lamplight, ice on the road
glistens like lard.

This is not Africa.
This is not Europe.
This is nowhere but "here".

And what was "I"
is only a word
in December's dark mouth.

The hospital pavilions
glow against the darkness
like lighted TV screens.

A hidden tuning fork
in the immense cold
emits its ringing hum.

I stand under starry sky
and feel the world crawl
in and out of my coat
as in an anthill.

Three black oaks jut out of snow.
So rough, but nimble-fingered.
From their ample bottles
greenery will foam this spring.

The bus crawls through winter dusk
like a ship aglow among pines
where the road is a narrow, deep, dead canal.

Few passengers: some old, some youngsters.
If the bus stopped, with its lights out,
the whole world would be obliterated.

Have a fun weekend! Stay warm and stay safe!

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