#tomas transtromer

[amicus-noctis]

“Every person is a half-opened door leading to a room for everyone.” ― Tomas Transtromer

Painting: "Door ajar" by Serge de Vries

[sashayed]

Dagsmeja | Midday Thaw

Morgonluften avlämnade sina brev med frimärken som glödde. Snön lyste och alla bördor lättade—ett kilo vägde 700 gram inte mer. Solen fanns högt över isen flygande på stället både varm och kall. Vinden gick fram sakta som om den sköt en barnvagn framför sig. Familjerna gick ut, de såg öppen himmel för första gången på länge. Vi befann oss i första kapitlet av en mycket stark berättelse. Solskenet fastnade på alla pälsmössor som frömjöl på humlorna och solskenet fastnade på namnet ᴠɪɴᴛᴇʀ och satt kvar där tills vintern var över. Ett stilleben av timmerstockar på snön gjorde mig tankfull. Jag frågade dem: »Följer Ni med till min barndom?« De svarade »ja«. Inne bland snåren hördes ett mummel av ord på ett nytt språk: vokalerna var blå himmel och konsonanterna var svarta kvistar och det talade så sakta över snön. Men reaplanet nigande i sitt dåns kjolar fick tystnaden på jorden att växa i styrka.

The morning air delivered its letters with stamps that glowed. The snow glistened and all burdens were lifted—a kilo weighed 700 grams, no more. High over the ice the sun was flying in place, both warm and cold. The wind advanced gently, as if pushing a baby stroller. Families went outside, seeing open sky for the first time in a long while. We found ourselves in the first chapter of a captivating story. The sunshine stuck to all the fur hats like pollen to the bees and the sunshine stuck to the name ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ and stayed there until winter’s end. A still life of harvested logs on the snow made me thoughtful. I asked them: “Are You coming along to my childhood?” They answered, “Yes.” Deep in the thicket, there was a mumbling of words in a new language: the vowels were blue sky, the consonants black twigs, and spoken so softly over the snow. But the jet curtsying in its thundering skirts intensified the strength of silence on Earth.

Tomas Tranströmer (1931-2015) trans. Patty Crane in The Blue House: Collected Works of Tomas Tranströmer, 2023

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“Sometimes an abyss opens between Tuesday and Wednesday but twenty-six years could pass in a moment. Time is not a straight line, it’s more of a labyrinth, and if you press close to the wall at the right place you can hear the hurrying steps and the voices, you can hear yourself walking past on the other side.”

- Tomas Tranströmer : "The Great Enigma" ::  cafe inevitable

[alive on all channels]

[llovelymoonn]

josh e wylie cast love \\ tomas transtroemer vermeer

kofi

[curiosandcurioser]

Sylvia Plath | Virginia Woolf | Jonathan Safran Foer | twitter user jzux | Tomas Transtromer | Cheryl Strayed

[dk-thrive]

Time is not a straight line, it’s more of a labyrinth, and if you press close to the wall at the right place you can hear the hurrying steps and the voices, you can hear yourself walking past on the other side.

Tomas Tranströmer (1931-2015), from “Answers to Letters”, in: “The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems”, translated from the Swedish by Robin Fulton. (New Directions; December 8, 2011) (via finita–la–commedia)

[withnailrules]

I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones.

—Tomas Transtromer

[seemoreandmore]

Tired of all who come with words, words but no language I went to the snow-covered island. The wild does not have words. The unwritten pages spread themselves out in all directions. I come across the marks of roe-deer's hooves in the snow. Language, but no words. -Tomas Transtromer