Sunday, 23 December 2012

Poem by the Swedish writer
Lars Gustafsson

The lamp

 Before the lamp was lit
we sat completely still

A crow’s rasping voice
and a sudden scent of clover

with a sweetish warmth
through this rising dark.

Water, completely still.
The earth, it too tranquil.

The bird flew
as close as it could

over its own shadow

And the bumblebee, faithful
friend of many summers,

crashed against the window pane
as if it were the wall of the world

And the dive dapper
flew from lake to lake

It could be late
or early
in various lives

it could be in a butterfly’s shadow
In the shadow of any life.

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