|
0
registrerede
2011
gæster og
38
søgemaskiner online. |
|
Key:
Admin,
Global Mod,
Mod
|
|
|
Skribent: Simon
Emne: Re: Mellemrummet
|
På nisseligt vis, her endnu et digt fra Human Chain:
Canopy
It was the month of May
Trees in Harvard Yard
Were turning a young green.
There was whispering everywhere.
David Ward had installed
Voice-boxes in the branches,
Speakers wrapped in sacking
Looking like old wasps’ nests
Or bat-fruit in the gloaming –
Shadow Adams apples
That made sibilant ebb and flow,
Speech-gutterings, desultory
Hush and backwash and echo.
It was like a recording
Of antiphonal responses
In the congregation of leaves.
Or a wood that talked in its sleep.
Reeds on a riverbank
Going over and over their secret.
People were cocking their ears,
Gathering, quietening,
Stepping on the grass,
Stopping and holding hands.
Earth was replaying its tapes,
Words being given new airs:
Dante’s whispering wood –
The wood of the suicides –
Had been magicked to lover’s lane.
If a twig had been broken off there
It would have curled itself like a finger
Around the fingers that broke it
And then refused to let go
As if it were mistletoe
Taking tightening hold.
Or so I thought as the fairy
Lights in the boughs came on.
- Seamus Heaney.
mvh
Simon
|
|
|
|
