Excerpts from
The Star behind the Gable
By Thorkild Bjørnvig
September
Gold rushes behind branches,
hush of evening,
as if I were alone
with the blackbird´s call.
But everything is here,
the lizard peering
attentively out
from a hole in the wall.
The bell-like movement
of jellyfish rises
up through my body
from watery deep.
The tortoiseshell butterfly
folds up black
on the rafter, preparing
for winter sleep.
A juicy windfall
swells in my palm,
smoothing for a while
my life-line out.
Cool and delicious,
everything is here,
timelessly streaming
through my mouth.
A gift of patience
that comes unsought
is this most rare
and balanced of hours.
The air is lifted
by the setting sun
and hovers golden
over the flowers.
The four winds
united at last -
where distant trees
follow mountain crest,
where the sun descends,
there they lie,
like giant birds
in a lofty nest.
From Thorkild Bjornvig: The World Tree
Mermaid Press/Gyldendal 1993
Translated by Paula Hostrup-Jessen
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