"...och inne i dem alla öppnade sig valv bakom valv oändligt.", a photo by Robin Iversen Rönnlund on Flickr.
Roman arches - Tomas Tranströmer
Inside the great Roman Church the tourists found themselves
in the semi-darkness.
Vaults beyond vaults
There, the voice of a faceless angel caught me - filled me
whispering into my very body:
"Do not feel ashamed human, be proud!
Inside you, vaults are opening and new vaults beyond these - forever.
Never will it stop. Never shall it stop."
Blinded by tears I stumbeled out on the sunny piazza
together with with Mr and Mrs Jones, Master Tanaka and
and inside all of them vaults beyond vaults were opening - forever.
Pentax K100D Super, Helios-44M 58|1:2 m42-lens.
Tomas Tranströmer: wild dream
There his wild dream of the future flies like a kite, bigger than his
on which the shadows of the clouds
do not move.
No, they are moving.
Tranströmer becomes the eighth European to win the world's premier literary award in the last ten years, following the German novelist Herta Muller in 2009, the French writer JMG le Clezio in 2008 and the British novelist Doris Lessing in 2007.
They turn the light off, and its white globe glows
an instant and then dissolves, like a tablet
in a glass of darkness. Then a rising.
The hotel walls shoot up into heaven’s darkness.
Their movements have grown softer, and they sleep,
but their most secret thoughts begin to meet
like two colors that meet and run together
on the wet paper in a schoolboy’s painting.
It is dark and silent. The city however has come nearer
tonight. With its windows turned off. Houses have come.
They stand packed and waiting very near,
a mob of people with blank faces.
AFTER A DEATH
Once there was a shock
that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail.
It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy.
It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires.
One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun
through brush where a few leaves hang on.
They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories.
Names swallowed by the cold.
It is still beautiful to feel the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more real than the body.
The samurai looks insignificant
beside his armour of black dragon scales. Tomas Tranströmer: Tracks
Tomas Tranströmer: From March 1979
The untamed has no words.
The unwritten pages spread out on every side!
I come upon the tracks of deer in the snow.
Language but no words.
Tomas Tranströmer: Alone