Göran Sonnevi  (translated by Rika Lesser)


from Mozart's Third Brain


                                                                                                            Ormöga, 1995


Swallows' wings out the window, when they fly up to the nest
Their light undersides   A patch of space over one of earth's landscapes
Below it is limestone, with its other space, downward
Behind me, hidden, to the back of my head, is the sea

The weave of living things, tighter and tighter   We look at
the spotted-fly-catcher nestling, its round eyes, streaked head,
in half of a swallow's nest under the eaves, its tail sticks out outside

The darkness of the wings approaches   From all directions   Whirling
How shall I make anything out in this surging noise?  Who
will be gathered up?  Which message, to whom?

The flock of starlings comes flying, making tiny sounds   The darker
parents feed the lighter chicks   When the wind blows
from the northeast, the house is leeward of the grove   From there you can hear the cuckoo
The wind stirs up waves in the sea of grass, exposing its different colors
All the different forms of the grass spikes   Their aspects scatter the light

Today I will go and see the dead woman   I hear her voice
all the time, just as it spoke to me, through all the years
In her voice was honesty, knowledge   Never anything false
Nothing can take that away   It is perpetuated

from Mozart's Third Brain:    CVI, CVII, CXII, CXIV, CXV, CXVI, CXXVIII, CXXIX, CXXX

© 2008 Electronic Poetry Review