Edita’s Reviews > The Star By My Head: Poets from Sweden > Status Update

I know that when I dip my writing
hand in the green sorrow it will be cooled. Hanging from the
breathing of the trees the words become coated with verdigris.

The summer grows old and everything flows together into a single melancholy whisper.

— Tomas Tranströmer

The trees undress and dress
repeatedly,
as in a marriage.
The wild geese head south, head north.
You know nature, you know the arts.
How does Mozart help you?
The gray flock of school children wandered off
below the linden trees
and the gray flock of school children returned.
Music is cultivated time.
Time does not heal time’s wounds.

—Werner Aspenström

As night arrives
I stand on the steps and listen,
the stars are swarming in the garden
and I stand in darkness.
Did you hear, a star fell with a clang!
Don’t walk barefoot in the grass;
my garden is full of shards.

My poems ought to be considered as careless scribbles. As far as the content is concerned, I let my instinct build up what my intellect in its pending stance witnesses. My self-confidence is due to the fact that I have realized my dimensions. It doesn’t suit me to make myself smaller than I am.