From July 1990 by Tomas Tranströmer

It was a funeral
and I felt that the dead man
was reading my thoughts
better than I could.

The organ was silent, the birds sang.
The grave out in the sunshine.
My friend’s voice belonged
on the far side of the minutes.

I drove home seen-through
by the glitter of the summer day
by rain and quietness
seen-through by the moon.

translated by Robin Fulton

6 thoughts on “From July 1990 by Tomas Tranströmer

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s