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Alcaic

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This forest in May. It haunts my whole life:
the invisible moving van. Singing birds.
              In silent pools, mosquito larvae's
furiously dancing question marks.

I escape to the same places and same words.
Cold breeze from the sea, the ice-dragon's licking
              the back of my neck while the sun glares.
The moving van is burning with cool flames.



Tomas Transtromer, "Alcaic" from Bright Scythe. Copyright © 2015 by Tomas Transtromer.  Reprinted by permission of Sarabande Books, Inc..
Source: Bright Scythe (Sarabande Books, 2015)
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Alcaic

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