The surface of the wound Poem by Eva Ström

The printing ink has disappeared
it stains no hands

The tourists at the cathedral
take out their Scottish money

In the crypt a wedding could take place
The story of Christ is changed

I rush out before the waves break
Grace means mercy

At a certain given point
all art ceases to function

A single light-hewn sentence can be found
in a book of compact darkness

or indiffrence. There are human beings
that justify all of life

by the mere presence of their existence
Camus writes. We attempt tp cling on tightly

to this sentence, like compassion
Like sleep's dark balsam

that conceals the raw ground
of predatory instinct, of despair.

Translation by John Irons