Osprey

Osprey, 1984

MY FIRST NIGHT IN CHICAGO

Cars whiz by below.
Illuminated yellow street
lights up bedroom.
Shadows drive by on the wall
to sounds of zooming cars
and a tired neighing night bus’s stop-and-go.
In summers humid-hot heat
creaking stairs
and whistling at the door
are heard.
Dose off,
wake with a start from
police sirens and ambulances.

Wakeup
and coffee behind bars on the ground floor.

Translation: Egil Dennerline 

WITHOUT END

Our love resembles small stones,
unseen
but sensed and felt
at high tide.

At low tide
they lie unquestioning
as wet medallions
blossoming anew. 

Translation: Egil Dennerline