Thursday, 9 June 2016

One more - 'Romantisch'


Behind the waterfall, roaming across rustling fields,
crouched above liverwort, springing from cliffs

at springtide; you used to see them everywhere,
in every poem picturesque passers-by with their orations,

conversations, screams if need be. Lighter the days
in this sublunary world when poetry

hung roseate upon the branches, free
as a burgeoning Now that would grow real

in a reciprocity of words  
yet stolidly as ever, ignominy and despair
lie in wait for us behind the trees.

1 comment:

John Irons said...

To see the original of this poem, go to!/forfattare/BrennerSE/titlar/PoetiskeDikter1/sida/106/etext