That stranger’s face in my bathroom mirror?
It looks oddly familiar? Oh yes – oh no…! It’s
me! Those furrows from nose to mouth, deep
as ditches – where did they come from? And
for how long have they been there? What do
you mean you loved? My secular mind and
soul you rejected me for! Oh well, it’s still
February but April and spring will soon be.
It’s my birthday in April. But after the 60+
a birthday is just one more step to the grave.
The only on fire is your silence. It burns me!
In order to write, you must read – and what poet would a Swede like me read if not “the one and only” Tomas Tranströmer, diligently translated – yet not easy to fair transfer to another language. (Still here in my translation to visible my inspiration.)