my father

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: The Lowest Country

he staggered

and I caught his eyes –

oh like wonderfully silent

helpless birds’ hearts they were

with the power of the great pain,

which is art,

shining in a glossy sea –

o weakness assaulted me like a storm

and I hit –

 

a night, where one lamp

gathered all loneliness,

the fruit burst

and his life burst out in music

and forces the sky to tears –

and I bit my tongue

powerless –

 

o, father

two white birds

guard the goodness in my soul

with insurmountable goodness –:

your hands –