Sunday 17 June 2012

Poem by the Swedish writer
Lennart Sjögren

The things

It was best at the border close to daybreak –
that which grows visible after the hour of the wolf –
when with clear eyes the things could observe us.

The things are hardly human
nor animal either
but live like us in their tight-sealed shells
and when broken a scrunch is heard
of broken bones.

Do not ask me about their origins
or special destination –
just now though at the border of daybreak
I heard them bark like happy dogs
when the scent becomes sharp.

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