Eighth sonnet of the 40-sonnet cycle by the Swedish poet Erik Lindegren

VIII

the tired tree cannot lift itself from the blood

and irresolution cannot raise its branches

false simplicity cannot speak the truth

and scourges itself in vain into a witness of blood

the precious stones tempt with the dried-up river-bed of oblivion

but the path to life passes through a different desert

where alone with the sun I recall the world

and comrade Orestes who cannot speak for sand

where alone with the woman I forget the sun

and its tired trees in the fiery cave

its scorched eyes that waken towards evening

when the desert freezes in spring’s mourning-band coat

when the invisible drama takes up its position in the wings

and in the silent desert a sea of humanity swells

To see the whole cycle, go to here