Thomas Transtromer

Discussion in 'Poetry and Art' started by Crowan, Mar 27, 2015.

  1. Crowan

    Crowan Well-Known Member

    Jun 15, 2010
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    After a black day, I play Haydn,
    and feel a little warmth in my hands.
    The keys are ready. Kind hammers fall.
    The sound is spirited, green, and full of silence.
    The sound says that freedom exists
    and someone pays no tax to Caesar.
    I shove my hands in my haydnpockets
    and act like a man who is calm about it all.
    I raise my haydnflag. The signal is:
    “We do not surrender. But want peace.”
    The music is a house of glass standing on a slope;
    rocks are flying, rocks are rolling.
    The rocks roll straight through the house
    but every pane of glass is still whole.

    Translation of poem by Thomas Tranströmer 1931 - 1915

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