‘Six Winters,’ Tomas Tranströmer
1
In the black hotel a child is asleep.
And outside: the winter night
where the wide-eyed dice roll.2
An élite of the dead became stone
in Katarina Churchyard
where the wind shakes in its armour from Svalbard.3
One wartime winter when I lay sick
a huge icicle grew outside the window.
Neighbour and harpoon, unexplained memory.4
Ice hangs down from the roof edge.
Icicles: the upside-down Gothic.
Abstract cattle, udders of glass.5
On a side-track, an empty railway-carriage.
Still. Heraldic.
With the journeys in its claws.6
Tonight snow-haze, moonlight. The moonlight jellyfish itself
is floating before us. Our smiles
on the way home. Bewitched avenue.(trans. Robin Fulton)
