My great love
The sea
is my great love.
When finally I die,
I want to die close to the one I love.
Should a fisherman then
chance to drag up my bleached bones,
I want him to break loose one,
scrape away the barnacles,
and play some frail tunes
to the wail of the old squaw,
when she sways up with the swell,
to fade away
in the red hues of dawn.
This completes my circle.
(Erkki Haglund)
It happens that I long to be gone,
when I see the wild geese move on
in september.
But as yet
It isn´t clear to med
where I want to go.
Actually it´s irrelevant,
as I lack wings.
(Verne Moberg)
In the sea is a silence
that cannot be described.
In the sea is a peacefulness
that not many know.
Way out in the middle
of the howling, roaring sea
is a stillness
that vrey few feel.
When you bear this silence,
peace and stillness within you,
you are as close as you can come to
the reality
that formed life.
(Verne Moberg)
Today
the spring´s first gulls flew
in over the channel´s melting ice.
White, screeching gulls
with a message from open sea.
I understood
that in their wings
dwells a freedom,
that isn´t granted us.
We earthbound,
icebound ones,
we alk around here waitning for spring
instead of, as the gull,
flying to meet it.
(Verne Moberg)
Through holes in the ice
from the deep
I draw fish after fish
of large-eyed cod
in a tangled net
In blinding March sun
I fish
till twilight´s blue chill
bites
my hands and my face
(Verne Moberg)
Slow Learners
Aland
is the country we came to
We were bred and born in open boats
and on barren shores
by men and women in seal skins
and with the light of wreckors fires in their eyes.
But ecven as the islands rose up
and grew out of the sea.
We became compliant,
building stone churches on the hills, offshore.
Finally
we got to be folks.
But doffing our caps
and bowing deep
is something
many of us
haven´t learned yet.
(Verne Moberg)
"One day when I die
let them sing The International,"
said the loyal, old Socialist.
"But do you really think the cantor knows it,"
whined his old woman.
"No, that´s true," replied the old man
and went on living.
(Verne Moberg)
From In the Wing of the Gull Dwells a Freedom, 1983
Ice Organ
Ice organ
but many lovely pipes
play mourning music on the frozen North Sea Coast,
music that blends together
with the roar of the sea faraway.
Ice organ,
play for me
the eternal, unfinished symphony.
Play for me
before the March sun cuts off your pipes.
Play even after I am gone
and no longer can hear
your melancholy, plaintive sounds!
(Verne Moberg)
From And the Sea Was Hard, 1973
With The Sea
We must live by the sea
in order to feel its rhythm.
We must have respect for the sea
in order to love it.
And when we love the sea,
it can never frighten us.
With the sea in our heart
we walk out to meet it.
Inside us we feel its pulse.
And the peace it gives,
no one can take away.
(Verne Moberg)
From And the Sea Was Hard, 1973
I Row Slowly Across The Cove
I row slowly across the cove
in order not to wake the wind.
Silently
the skift glides along yellow reed.
No traces
I leave in the night.
The wild ducks in the cove
have become silent.
The moon,
big and round,
rises over the treetops
to look at itself in shining waters.
This late autumn night
heaven is close to earth.
A lone man i a boat
becomes one with universe.
(Meta Ottosson)
Sometimes I Long To Go
Sometimes, when I see the wild-geese migrate in September
I long to go.
But
I still don´t know
where.
Really, it is of no importance
as I lack wings.
(Meta Ottosson)
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