March Evening by Harry Martinson

Winterspring, nightfall, thawing.
Boys have lit a candle in a snowball house.
For the man in the evening train that rattles past,
it is a red memory surrounded by gray time,
calling, calling, out of stark woods just waking up.
And the man who is traveling never got home,
his life stayed behind, held by that lantern and that hour.

translated by Robert Bly

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