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Sunday, October 01, 2006

The Half-Finished Heaven

Cowardice breaks off on its path.
Anguish breaks off on its path.
The vulture breaks off in its flight.

The eager light runs into the open,
even the ghosts take a drink.

And our paintings see the air,
red beasts of the ice-age studios.

Everything starts to look around.
We go out in the sun by hundreds.

Every person is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.

The endless field under us.

Water glitters between the trees.

The lake is a window into the earth.

Tomas Transtromer

2 comments:

John Gallaher said...

Beautiful little poem,
thanks for posting it.

Anonymous said...

i was reading this poem YESTERDAY in a waiting room and was like holy shit...what a poem.