Excerpts from
The Crystal Forest
By Pia Tafdrup
Tabernacles
You cover me with the shadows of your hands
The dancing sun of a hypodermic
can never bestow such calm
Nothing proves my existence better
than the touch of your fingers and the sound
of the word "løvsal," that leafy shelter,
which casts the moments into a deep green bell
under whose dome I rediscover the slow life
hear the silence of an underground sky
a cool place where fragrance too belongs
For example the smell of the child
the first time I held it and didn`t know its dreams
only its long awaited but nonetheless singular cry
As if it knew the world even before it arrived.
Translated by Roger Greenwald
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