The Stones Poem by Tomas Tranströmer
The Stones
The stones we have thrown I hear
fall, glass-clear through the year. In the valley
confused actions of the moment
fly howling from tree-top
to tree-top, quieting
in air thinner than now's, gliding
like swallows from mountain-top
to mountain-top till they
reach the furthest plateaus
along the edge of existence. Where
all our deeds fall
glass-clear
to no ending
except ourselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 7:41:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
