Tuesday, 23 August 2016

AUGUST NOTES


























Time, a muffled sound of footsteps from down below, 
renovation has begun in the building across the street. 
I have lunch with Bo Carpelan
his words about aging are unembellished, 
yet filled with beauty. 
I taste his sentences on the tip of my tongue, 
vaguely sensing something about what’s yet to come 
under his curious but gentle gaze. 
A fly darts around, 
doesn’t seem to find peace for its restless soul, 
its wings carrying an air of midsummer 
in the middle of an August day.
The end of the summer
has a bittersweet tinge. 

















"But a chair, sunlight, flowers:
these are not to be dismissed. 
I am alive,
I live,
I breathe,
I put my hand out,
into the sunlight."

- Margaret Atwood







Aikaa, kadun puolelta askeleet kantautuvat vaimeina, 
vastapäisessä talossa tehdään remonttia. 
Lounasseurana Bo Carpelan, 
hän puhuu vanhenemisesta, 
kaunistelematta mutta kauniisti. 
Maistelen lauseita, 
aavistan jotain hamaa tulevaa, 
tunnen uteliaan mutta lempeän katseensa. 
Kärpänen poukkoilee, 
ei löydä sielulleen rauhaa, 
tuo elokuiseen päivään häivähdyksen keskikesää.
Loppukesässä suloista haikeutta.



























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