Transtromer

Elegy



I open the first door.
It's a large sunlit room.
A heavy car passes in the street
and makes the porcelain tremble.

I open door number two.
Friends! You drank the darkness
and became visible.

Door number three.  A narrow hotel room.
Outlook on a back street.
A lamp sparking on the asphalt.
Beautiful slag of experiences.






trns. Robin Fulton


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