Friday, 20 February 2015

Vita Nuova - Jón Thoroddsen

Outside the day is blue and bright, but inside Sorrow sits and tells tales to the Prisoner. The shadows gather in the corner and listen.
The sun rises in the sky. The rays, which shoot dancing through the metal-plated window, kiss away the darkness from the cell.
One of them dares to out-lengthen the others. It dances along the floor, and kisses Oscar Wilde's foot. The Prisoner looks up in wonder. Sorrow stops speaking and smiles.
Oscar Wilde stands up and walks to the window. He watches a little, blue streak, which the captives call the sky. And he sees a white cloud rush by the sky's sea.
A peculiar song plays, wakes his imagination. He is an exile, who lives alongside the sea. There he waits for something that he loves.
You, whom I love.
I push a boat out from the boat-house, because I am stricken with homesickness. And I call out to you across the sea:
With a white sail he heads for your shore, the exile, who loves you.

Jón Thoroddsen (1898 - 1924) Iceland
Translated by Christopher Crocker

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