söndag 28 maj 2017

Poesi på en söndag

Theodore Roethkes barndomshem i Saginaw, Michigan. (Foto:Ian Pollet).

All things reveal infinitude:
The mountain with its singular bright shade
Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow,
The after-light upon ice-burdened pines;
Odor of basswood on a mountain-slope,
A scent beloved of bees;
Silence of water above a sunken tree:
The pure serene of memory in one man,-
A ripple widening from a single stone
Winding around the waters of the world.

Från "The Far Field" av Theodore Roethke (1908-1963)

Inga kommentarer: