Sunday, 23 June 2013

Poem by the Swedish writer Lars Gustafsson

Concerning the deepest sounds

There is a stop on large organs,
a thirty-two-foot bass, contra-fagotto

a mighty quivering column of sound, late autumn
when the water in the wells rises

the underground network of watercourses and wells.
And it is more sorrow than sound.

At this lower boundary where music ends
something else wants to start,

more body than sound, body and darkness,
and late autumn when the wells rise,

but since it is below the ground,
below the music, below the lament

– it is unwilling to start, does not start
and thus does not exist.

Now it is closer, now it is distinct!
Now it’s immediately heard in the entire area.

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