Monday, 21 May 2012

Poem by the Norwegian writer
Tore Ørjasæter (1886-1968)

Cries of gulls

Sheer rock and steep faces of Lofot,
bird-cliff and thousands
of seagulls that circle round mast and hull.
Let themselves glide on powerful wings
towards the open sea, - it breathes towards them
and receives like an open mind.

Soon after the storm has abated,
the sea’s bosom still goes on heaving.
The swell lifts the heavy sea
closer up to the horizon
that constantly escapes and dies out quietly
to new heights on the skyline
that once more breathes out and escapes
like time dies out within the age.
Oh these free cries of gulls
towards the open sea! It is like breathing
out one’s longings and never landing.

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