There grows a tree beneath the earth;
a mirage pursues me,
a song of living glass, of burning silver.
Like darkness before light
must all weight melt,
where only one drop falls of the song from the leaves.
An anguish pursues me.
It oozes out of the earth.
There a tree suffers deeply in heavy layers of earth.
Oh, wind! Sunlight!
Feel that agony:
the promise of fragrance of paradise miracles.
Where do you walk, feet, that tread
so soft or hard
that the crust cracks and yields up its prey?
For the tree’s sake, have mercy!
For the tree’s sake, have mercy!
For the tree’s sake I call you from the four points of the
compass!
Or must we wait for a god – and which one?
Karin Boye (1900 - 1941) Sweden
Translated by David McDuff
Source: Nordic Voices in Print
thank you for this
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