The Open Window
Translated by Patty Crane
I stood shaving one morning
in front of the open window
on the second floor.
Switched on the razor.
It started to purr.
It whirred louder and louder.
Grew into a roar.
Grew into a helicopter
and a voice—the pilot’s—pierced
through the noise, shouting:
“Keep your eyes open!
You’re seeing this for the last time.”
We lifted off.
Flew low over the summer.
So much that I loved, does it have any weight?
So many dialects of green.
And above all, the red walls of the wooden houses.
The beetles glistened in the dung, in the sun.
Cellars being pulled up by the roots
wafted through the air.
Activity.
The printing presses crawled along.
At that instant, the people
were the only ones who kept still.
They held a minute of silence.
And above all, the dead in the country graveyard
were still
like those who posed for a photo in the camera’s youth.
Fly low!
I didn’t know which way
to turn my head—
with my visual field divided
like a horse.
Translated from the Swedish
Notes:
Read the Swedish-language original, “Det öppna fönstret.”
From The Blue House: Collected Works of Tomas Tranströmer, translated by Patty Crane. Copyright © 2011 by Tomas Tranströmer. Translation copyright © 2023 by Patty Crane. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Copper Canyon Press, coppercanyonpress.org.
Source:
Poetry
(July/August 2023)
