I’ve trained them
to come,

to go away again,
to sit, to stand,

to wait
on command,

or I’d like to
be the master who

tells them all
they can’t do.

Clouds are arriving now
With greetings from
Distant coasts;
It’s been a while since
They sent a message to me.
You shy pink
High on the evening sky–
It’s probably for
Someone else.
Well, there’s still
Some hope left
In the world.

translated by Robert Bly

Weave a carpet for us, Bodil,
weave it from dreams and visions,
weave it out of wind,
so that I, like a Bedouin, can
roll it out when I pray,
pull it around me
when I sleep,
and then every morning cry out,
“Table, set yourself!”
Weave it
for a cape in the cold weather,
and a sail
for my boat!
One day I will sit down on the carpet
and sail away on it
to another world.

It’s that dream we carry with us
That something wonderful will happen,
That it has to happen,
That time will open,
That the heart will open,
That doors will open,
That the mountains will open,
That wells will leap up,
That the dream will open,
That one morning we’ll slip in
To a harbor that we’ve never known.

What’s gone is gone.
What’s lost is lost.

What’s felt as pulse–
what’s mind, what’s home.

Who’s here, where’s there–
what’s patience now.

What thought of all,
why echo it.

Now to begin–
Why fear the end.

We’ll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
While the silent moon shines clearly;
I’ll clasp thy waist, and fondly prest,
Swear how I lo’e thee dearly;
Not vernal show’rs to budding flow’rs,
Not Autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be, as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely Charmer!

I am an unquiet bird
My head falls forward with fatigue at evening
wings folded
several successes several failures, yes
it’s been a long loveless day

If I’d hunted the stones to the south

. .(the stone outside us is beauty
I might have done better
Well
tomorrow,
no matter, tomorrow. . .
. .(and the stone within us is love
. . . .both

stone will bust the beak
or break the foot or the wing
there is no other way to live

I suppose we are all Orpheus if we would

. .No, I’m not
dozing or dreaming of home
. .I am home.

like an old friend
with stories to tell
we sit together
remembering our past
associations
both together
and apart
we never met
but knew each other intimately
what you wrote spoke to me
and I read you
a connection was made
though years apart
having made your acquaintance
after your death
a miscalculation on my part
but you still speak
to me now
through your work
I carry
in every household I’ve lived
you have been there
and from time to time
like say now
I open you up
and continue the conversations
forever grateful
for having you
in my life

This star, see,
she comes up and leaves
a track in the sea.

Whatcha gonna do, swim
down that track or
drown in the sea?