onsdag 23. mars 2011


No 57


it was the stubborn industrious ones
who cast their anchors here

who built up houses
and piers that forced themselves forward towards the light

it was we
born by ourselves

who woke up
at a border

lonesome birds

that floated up
in the dusk

and drifted with the current
towards grandfathers’ graves not formerly visited

and yet, deep inside us
a rhythm of sea air

deep inside us
the old ones who are struggling with the hay drying racks

and are rocking quietly back and forth
near the quays

(57 from kjensla av at det ikkje regnar andre stader enn her 2004 translated into english by Hilde Petra Brungot)

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