Tor Ulven (1953–1995)

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I stand under a tree of hungry hands

No, I stand under NONE
I go to isolation

an empty and absolute isolation
Traverse the desert mile after mile
And last city

I left behind me a long time
Go to great doubt

go to a doubt vanished by bigger doubt.
Why do I stand silent

even I have a mouth
Why do I stand idle

even I have feet
Why don’t I look
even I have eyes
Why don’t I scream

and I am caught in this misery

because I am made of stone.
There is something I can not reach

I do not know what it is

I stretch out to it

Air air air!

***

What are you looking for in the sky?
I’m looking for an image of a star which doesn’t exist.
With my two own eyes
on the other side
I should reach/access the darkness.
But who could see the difference
between darkness and green?

***

I will be travelling to Aredo
and I will ornament my broken jars
with an image of goat’s red-horn
I will be travelling to Aredo
and marry the Goldsmith's dead daughter
in the evening
sitting on the threshold of the door
I hear the neighbour’s smile
The newly hatched flies
Around the glare oil’s lamp
Yes, now
Suddenly, I see the Chestnuts tree
In the darkness, contemplating white flowers:

We are dust.

***