Madrigal
I inherited a dark forest where I seldom walk. But a day is coming when the living and the dead change places. Then the forest starts moving. We aren't without hope. The worst crime remains unsolved despite the efforts of many police. In the same way there is a great unsolved love and our lives. I inherited a dark forest, but today I am walking in the other forest, the light one. And the living things that sing, wiggle, wave and crawl! It's spring and the air is very strong. I have an examination at the University of Forgetfullness and am as empty-handed as the shirt on the clothesline.
The Cuckoo
A cuckoo sat and called in the birch just north
of the house.
Its voice was so powerful that at first I thought it
was an opera singer performing a cuckoo imitation. Surprised
I saw the bird. Its tailfeathers moved up and down with each
note like a pump-handle at a well. The bird hopped, turned
around and shouted to all four directions. Then it lifted into
the air
and flew cursing under its breath over the house and far off into
the West . . .
The summer grows old and everything flows together into a single
melancholy whisper. Cuculus canorus returns to the tropics. Its
time in Sweden
is over. It wasn't long! As a matter of fact the cuckoo is a citizen
of Zaire . . .
I am no longer so fond of travelling. But the journey visits me.
Now that I am being pushed further into a corner, now that the
annual
rings widen and I need reading-glasses. Always what happens is
more
than we can carry! There's nothing to be astonished about. These
thoughts carry me just as loyally Susi and Chuma carried Livingstone's
mummified body straight through Africa.