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's From March '79
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5 comments:
An intriguing idea to separate words from language.
So prints in the snow might say as much or more than our finest orators.
What a terrific poem.
The poem resonates with me too, even in translation.
Still wie Pfoten....
Pfoten is irresistible!
such a lovely image. thank you for sharing it.
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