Arkiv för juni 2012

Seamus Heaney – Blackberry Picking   1 comment


Seamus Heaney reads his poem Blackberry Picking.

Blackberry Picking
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.


Postat juni 14, 2012 av estraden i poets from English-speaking regions

Pär Lagerkvist – Det är vackrast när det skymmer   Leave a comment

Pär Lagerkvist läser sin dikt Det är vackrast när det skymmer.

Det är vackrast när det skymmer
Det är vackrast när det skymmer.
All den kärlek himlen rymmer
ligger samlad i ett dunkelt ljus
över jorden,
över markens hus.

Allt är ömhet, allt är smekt av händer.
Herren själv utplånar fjärran stränder.
Allt är nära, allt är långt ifrån.
Allt är givet
människan som lån

Allt är mitt, och allt skall tagas från mig,
inom kort skall allting tagas från mig.
Träden, molnen, marken där jag går.
Jag skall vandra
ensam utan spår.

Postat juni 12, 2012 av estraden i svenska diktare

Peter Nilsson – Morgonstund   Leave a comment

Peter Nilsson läser sin dikt Morgonstund ur diktsamlingen Jotack.
Christian Jormin ackompanjerar på flygel.

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Postat juni 12, 2012 av estraden i svenska diktare

Lina Ekdahl – Natt   Leave a comment


Lina Ekdahl läser sin dikt Natt ur sin diktsamling DIKTSAMLING.

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Postat juni 10, 2012 av estraden i svenska diktare

Helena Österlund – Det började med snö…   Leave a comment


Helena Österlund läser sin dikt Det började med snö… ur diktsamlingen Ordet och Färgerna.

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Postat juni 7, 2012 av estraden i svenska diktare

Birgitta Lillpers – tänka sig så mycket som brinner i regnet   Leave a comment


Birgitta Lillpers läser sin dikt tänka sig så mycket som brinner i regnet ur diktsamlingen Industriminnen (2012)

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Postat juni 5, 2012 av estraden i svenska diktare

Sylvia Plath – Black Rook in Rainy Weather   Leave a comment


Sylvia Plath reads her poem Black Rook in Rainy Weather.


Black Rook in Rainy Weather

On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, not seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can’t honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Leap incandescent

Out of the kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then —
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait’s begun again,
The long wait for the angel.
For that rare, random descent.