Tuesday, 5 November 2013

A poem by the Swedish writer
Ragnar Thoursie (1919-2010)

Your eyes are

Your eyes are a clear sky seen from the fish
waiting at the bottom of a well:
Clouds drift across its billows, quays
and gulls, falling swallows,
a spring lark. And when the underwater
observer moves the film of the surface ripples
slightly – But stones that fall
frighten more the one looking upward
than your cleft and once more
shieldlike raised
mirror of water and clouds.
Many a wanderer has bent down
over you: a dark face seen against dreams;
relieved his thirst and muddied
the flowing vein of clearness;
but gone on his way with water-touched tongue
and firstly raising a cairn.

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