Thursday, March 5, 2015

The Night Shed Its Blue Tears by Stefán Hörður Grímsson


The Night Shed Its Blue Tears

The night shed its blue tears
on grass and woods

and the earth grew cool and deep
beneath my feet
and I felt for a moment
as if a pallor struck my breast
and my bones were rotting
and I was seized by fear.

Then I thought I heard a low whisper like that of a closing flower:
You are a spring a thousand years ago.



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