Staffan Söderblomtrans. Robin Fulton
Dikterna stannar till inför döden.

Dom är nyfikna.

Dom tränger fram bland begravningsgästerna, 
stannar till inför gropen.

Sen hasar dom ner i gropen,
jag hör gruset rassla mot gropens botten.

Dikterna vet ingenting om döden.  

Dom tål inte tystnaden.

Dom bara gömmer sej,
dom gömmer sej och tröstar bara.
The poems stop short in the face of death.

They are curious.

They push through the funeral guests, 
stop short at the hole.

Then clamber down in the hole,
I hear earth and pebbles trickling down.

The poems know nothing about death.

They can't tolerate silence.

All they do is hide,
they hide and all they give is comfort.

Copyright © Staffan Söderblom; Trans. Copyright © Robin Fulton 1997, - publ. Norvik Press this book
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