Moonlight on Strömmen
As if cut out of sooted paper
Södra Bergen’s contours stand tall,
and Strömmen with coal-black eddies
swirls on past the quay’s grey wall.
But the moon above the eddies
trails out its long gleaming coat,
and midst this gleaming sits rocking
a fisherman in a boat.
But now he reels in his sinker.
Let’s see what he’s caught tonight.
The mesh of his net seems shot through
with scales that glisten so bright.
But it is merely water
that glitters and runs away.
He fishes moonlight and sings and
soon will row off on his way.
Poet, what has your catch been
tonight from the swirling stream?
A bubble. A drop of moonlight.
A swift-flowing vanished dream.