What shall we say about the light?
The cat sees in the dark
without a flashlight, the glow-worm
can be seen, without neon
We climb out of the darkness into the light
as in the beautiful old song
That Nordic light
that we wander in and out of,
that soft gloomy darkness
provided by mossy pine forests,
those glimmering glades
among groves of birches – all this
with its light and darkness
has coloured our senses
What more can we say about the light
that grows from within, that is created,
that is believed?
And deep down in the darkness
at the bottom of a glacial lake
a Triglopsis quadricornis noses around
searching for its utopia
among stones and silt
In the rain’s high pine
a blackbird is perched,
charges by the batteries of July light
while we others, we
descenders of shoe-wearing creatures
wander pine forest paths
back and forth
while we wonder:
What should we say about the light?
An open question, the light
stands free, like a glistening
rain wet scarecrow
out in the newly harvested fields of oats
*
Get ready for a new day
think about love a moment
Know thar the road ends
at the same place
as it once began
Stand still
waiting for the rain,
look for a circle in the grass
where we once stood
Cup your hand over
that spot, as for protection
Think about love, know
that rain will soon start
to fall; open hand
(Translation: Tim Phillips)