Another poem by Bjørn Aamodt

Howl

Today I earned 90 kroner polishing windows.

Roof sirens from the fjord, it’s snowing

heavy, wet flakes. Shoes

standing by the stove.

When I close my eyes I see the starry sky:

The Great Bear

on the way to its winter lair

or to other bears: oh yes

I have the occasional thought too, the clock ticks,

here people are a long way off,

40 years perhaps. After all, I often say

to myself, after all it is absence,

that colourless distance

that drives us together, time after time.