lørdag 29. juni 2013

Til Turid


en dag da vi var unge, yngre enn barna våre er nå
virvlet vi på stranden der blå møter blå
barbente, i lange flagrende skjørt i Listavinden
og barna svinsende som andunger etter oss
men brått et smerteskrik fra midt i rekken
en liten fot hadde tråkket på en strandtorn
små røde dråper blandet seg med strandtornblomstens blå
"oj se der!" sa du, "for en fin ny farge du har laget - lilla!"
og du løftet barnet opp, tørket foten forsiktig, alt mens barnet
tittet ned på den plutselig så lilla blomsten, imponert over
sitt verk

akkurat slik har du jo i alle år løftet oss alle, Turid

pekt på fargene i blå


torsdag 23. mai 2013

Wislawa Szymborska: The End and the Beginning

The End and the Beginning

After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won’t
straighten themselves up, after all.

Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.

Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.

Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall.
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.

Photogenic it’s not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.

We’ll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.

Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.

From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.

Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.

In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.

Wislawa Szymborska, “The End and the Beginning” from Miracle Fair, translated by Joanna Trzeciak. Copyright © 2001 by Joanna Trzeciak. Used by permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

Wikipedia says this about Wislawa Szymborska, and The Poetry Foundation says this.

lørdag 27. april 2013

Li Bai: All the birds

All the birds have flown up and gone

A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.

We never tire of looking at each other

Only the mountain and I.

- Li Bai, Chinese poet of the Tang Dynasty

"Li Bai Chanting a Poem", by Liang K'ai (1140 - 1210)


torsdag 25. april 2013

A Poem for Spring

e.e. cummings: O sweet spontaneous

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
          fingers of
purient philosophers pinched
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
      beauty   .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
          thou answerest
them only with