translated from the Danish by Susanna Nied
Then suddenly beech woods, all green behind the dozing eyes
a deer leaps across the forest road
scents of acid and moss and cheek against bark, sunrain
between trunks, I’m home and hear the Baltic Sea
crash against big rocks far away and I rest like a
fairy or a witch in the sweet smells of the forest floor
we can so easily forget what we are who we are
that we are, but it takes only a little call
to waken the sleepers, as now, in the forest, for
LISTEN, isn’t that song and the chiming of goblets
sounding in the green chambers? YES by golly, a celebration
for the child in his seventeenth year, who never has
been happier and never will be happier; the world shimmers
everything unimaginably possible while a handspring
and a new but not disturbing sensitivity have settled
in the middle of his irresistibly marzipanescent
body.
Alting Blinker
Så pludselig bøgeskov, helt grønt bag de blundende øjne
en hind springer over den stampede jordvej
her lugter af syre og mos og kinden mod bark, solregn
mellem stammer, jeg er hjemme og hører Østersøen
slå mod store sten langt borte er jeg hvilende som en
fe eller en heks i skovbundens dufte
vi kan så let glemme at vi er dem vi er
at vi er, men der skal bare et lille signal til
at vække den slumrende, som nu, i skoven, for
HØR NU er det ikke sang og bægerklang
der lyder i de grønne sale? JO, et gilde sørme
for barnet i sit syttende år, der aldrig har
haft det bedre og aldrig får det bedre; verden blinker
alting ufatteligt muligt mens et kraftspring
og en ny men ikke forstyrrende følsomhed har slået sig ned
midt i den uimodståeligt marcipanemmende
krop.
From Alting Blinker. © Naja Marie Aidt. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2015 by Susanna Nied. All rights reserved.
