Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2011 v10n1
TOMAS TRANSTRÖMER
translation by Patty Crane

Silence

Walk past, they are buried . . .
A cloud glides over the sun’s disk.

Starvation is a tall building
that moves about by night—

in the bedroom an elevator shaft opens,
a dark rod pointing toward the interior.

Flowers in the ditch. Fanfare and silence.
Walk past, they are buried . . .

The table silver survives in giant shoals
down deep where the Atlantic is black.  end