Thursday, 20 September 2012

Solitude 2 by Tomas Tranströmer

I have been walking a while
on the frozen Swedish fields
and I have seen no one.

In other parts of the world
people are born, live, and die
in a constant human crush.

To be visible all the time - to live
in a swarm of eyes -
surely that leaves its mark on the face.
Features overlaid with clay.

The low voices rise and fall
as they divide up
heaven, shadows, grains of sand.

I have to be by myself
Ten minutes every morning,
ten minutes every night,
- and nothing to be done!

We all line up to ask each other for help

Millions

One

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