After a black day


After a black day, I play Haydn,

and feel a little warmth in my hands.

The keys are ready. Kind hammers fall.

The sound is spirited, green, and full of silence.

The sound says that freedom exists

and someone pays no tax to Caesar.

I shove my hands in my haydnpockets

and act like a man who is calm about it all.

I raise my haydnflag. The signal is:

“We do not surrender. But want peace.”

The music is a house of glass standing on a slope;

rocks are flying, rocks are rolling.

The rocks roll straight through the house

but every pane of glass is still whole.

Tomas Tranströmer (1931) Swedish poet.

The Nobel Prize in Literature 2011 is awarded to Tomas Tranströmer “because, through his condensed, translucent images, he gives us fresh access to reality”

I’ve always found poetry to be rather difficult to read. But through reading Woolf it is as if my awareness of words as pictures and rhythm is growing, and with this awareness I find a totally new pleasure in reading poems. But poetry demand a knowledge of words which makes it more difficult to read in a foreign language, I read Tranströmer in Swedish, or Norwegian – my mother tongue.