När poeter dör blir himlen först mörk men sedan lyses den upp av ett alldeles speciellt och vackert sken för poeten må ha lämnat det jordiska men hans/hennes dikter lever vidare i evighet. Så har också Seamus Heaney gått ur tiden- och jag sörjer en stor diktare.
För mig är han poeten som fångar det mörka, det sagoskimrande och det historiska Irland med sina vackra dikter.
Lovers on Aran
The timeless waves, bright sifting, broken glass,
Came dazzling around, into the rocks,
Came glinting, sifting from the Americas
To possess Aran. Or did Aran rush
To throw wide arms of rock around a tide
That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?
Did sea define the land or land the sea?
Each drew new meaning from the waves' collision.
Sea broke on land to full identity.
Från diktsamlingen "Death of a Naturalist" 1966
When they have put the stone
back in its mouth
we will drive north again
past Strang and Carling fjords
the cud of memory
allayed for once, arbitration
of the feud placated,
imagining those under the hill
disposed like Gunnar
who lay beautiful
inside his burial mound,
though dead by violence
and unvenged.
Men said that he was changing
verses about honour
and that four lights burned
in corners of the chamber:
which opened then, as he turned
with a joyful face
to look at the moon.
Från diktsamlingen "North" (1975) och dikten "Funeral Rites".
Seamus Heaney tilldelades Nobelpriset i litteratur år 1995.
