Poem of the Week, week 11: Hans Børli "March Spring"

MARCH SPRING

Dark trunks wet against the sun,
trees stand humming in the fohn wind,
holding the pure light
tightly between them.
Like women
stretching linen wash.

Swollen ice sweats, burning
in the sunfall. Frost sores
on my blackened hands
open again and cry
pus and blood. But somewhere
far inside my darkness
joy stirs, mute and silent,
as when the night wind lifts the feathers
on the wings of a sleeping bird.

Translated by Aina Gerner-Mathisen and Darrin Griggs

From International Poetry Review Norway Issue, Fall 1996, University of North Carolina at Greensborough, 1996, p. 41.

See the poem in Norwegian

Poem of the Week

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