A favourite Tomas Tranströmer poem

Allegro

I’m playing Haydn after a black day

and feel a simple warmth in my hands.

The keys are willing. Gentle hammers strike.

The sound is green, lively and quiet.

The sound says that freedom exists

and that someone does not render unto Caesar.

I thrust my hands deep into my Haydn pockets

and imitate someone who gazes calmly at the world.

I hoist the Haydn flag – which means:

‘We won’t surrender. But want peace.’

The music is a glasshouse on the slope

where the stones fly, where the stones roll.

And the stones roll straight through

but each pane remains unbroken.