Gustaf Munch-Petersen: Nineteen Poems

The lapwing cries

a black circle

cries a white curve

in the air –

The salt-meadow turns

green-grey wet

with a closed egg

in the center –


The sea glides blushing

into the fire of the sun,

the evening breathes salt

towards the morning wind –

A seagull disappears in the rush of the veil,

the fisherman wakes to the day –