Tomas Tranströmer

(15 April 1931 / Stockholm)

Alcaic - Poem by Tomas Tranströmer

This forest in May. It haunts my whole life:
the invisible moving van. Singing birds.
In silent pools, mosquito larvae's
furiously dancing question marks.

I escape to the same places and same words.
Cold breeze from the sea, the ice-dragon's licking
the back of my neck while the sun glares.
The moving van is burning with cool flames.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 21, 2016



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