It was a funeral.
\nI sensed the deceased
\nread my thoughts
\nbetter than myself.<\/p>\n
The organ fell silent. Birds sang.
\nA grave open to the sun.
\nMy friend\u2019s voice rang as far
\nas the minutes\u2019 darkside.<\/p>\n
I drove home transfixed
\nby the glare of summer day,
\nby rain and stillness,
\ntransfixed by the moon.<\/p>\n
From Tomas Transtr\u00f6mer,\u00a0Fr\u00e5n juli 90<\/i><\/p>\n
Det var en begravning
\n<\/i>och jag k\u00e4nde att den d\u00f6de
\n<\/i>l\u00e4ste mina tankar
\n<\/i>b\u00e4ttre \u00e4n jag sj\u00e4lv.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Orgeln teg, f\u00e5glarna sj\u00f6ng.
\n<\/i>Gropen ute i solgasset.
\n<\/i>Min v\u00e4ns r\u00f6st h\u00f6ll till
\n<\/i>p\u00e5 minuternas baksida.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Jag k\u00f6rde hem genomsk\u00e5dad
\n<\/i>av sommardagens glans
\n<\/i>av regn och stillhet
\n<\/i>genomsk\u00e5dad av m\u00e5nen.
\n<\/i><\/p>\n