Friday, 8 June 2012

Poem by the Norwegian writer
Paal Brekke

Where all paths get lost

The man who killed on Tuesday
was he a murderer Monday?
And wakes Wednesday at a grey window
with the shutter bleakly drifting through him
who is he now

the man of yesterday?
when the stone lifted his hand to strike
or the one he was the day before that
when was the day before yesterday
The light from the piano lamp he recalls
and the hands on the keys
yes Handel
And a heavy grey stone, crunching

He stares inwards
where old sighting points dissolve in the shutter
alter shape and change places
And looks at these hands
who owns them!
a stone they threw away in a ditch
or Handel, Handel

who has got up from the piano
without looking at him
lets the door glide shut
And only these hands are left
                                    borrowed used
Stray dogs is what they are
standing howling on a desolate moor
at Thursday Friday

1 comment:

John Irons said...

Salve Grassator!