TOMAS MIKAEL BÄCK
KJELL WESTÖ (ANDERS HED)
HENRIKA RINGBOM (b. 1962) is a Finland-Swedish poet, who also writes prose and essays. She has published four collections of poems, the latest of which Den vita vinthunden (The White Greyhound, 2001), and a novel. In her work unite keenness to images and exact, mucial language.
|EVERYTHING, AS IT IS
On my birthday I rose early.
I stood at the helm and watched
the sunrise. It was beautiful
out on the sea. The sky blue and pink, haze,
ice in different patterns and formations.
Somebody said that I walked
through the leaves on the streets, smiling,
I could not deny that.
I was about to tell a story of misery
but it was filling with hope. Seven birds
flew into the room and I saw the child being annunciated.
I was offered several endings
like falling from a balcony,
being gangraped or driving into a rock-face.
But like a sloth crawls lazily through
Peru’s jungle from branch to branch
I carefully described one beginning after the other.
When my shame had courage to come through
I took it by the hand
and held it like you hold the hand
of one whose hand needs
holding. It was getting dark outside
and the lanterns were lit, it was time
for the party. I sat besieged in the saloon
but was lifted up by new, ephemeral and mild guests,
touched by those who were neither invited nor expected.
They said their names and a gangway lowered deeply
step by step to the shore, over the water
The sky cloudy, grey
Soles of feet on warm stone
Excuse me, I have to get off
On my birthday I rose early
No one chooses not to be lead...
The first day when I walk around...
In the middle of the night
At about ten it was wonderfully
How dangerous the sky is to the eye
Oh to be a mouth
What all does the mouth not go...
In the great emptiness
To exist in every moment
Imagine that the road is
In the room concealed
What one says is
At the bottom of every eye
Like a jolt through