Poem for October

Prelude no.2

Two truths draw nearer each other. One moves from inside, one moves
from outside
and where they meet we have a chance to see ourselves.

He who notices what is happening cries despairingly: “Stop!
Whatever you like, if only I avoid knowing myself.”

And there is a boat that wants to put in – it tries just here –
thousands of times it comes and tries.

Out of the forest gloom comes a long boat hook, it is pushed in through
the open window,
in among the party guests who danced themselves warm.

Tomas Transtromer (1931 – 2015) 

From The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (New Directions:2006) translated by Robin Fulton.

Here’s Transtromer, a practicing psychologist, anticipating the CalMac age with a luminous little fable.

-IM