Light Tasks

I arrived in bits,
furious at Copenhagen.
The swans were stretching their necks and biting.
The donkeys stumbled badly on the descent.

How nice your compliments sounded –
it was as if the lights in the priory hall
had been turned on all at once.
The cabbage was marvellous.
Oh! If only I were dressed better!

You seemed a little wanton.
Thistledown, someone said.
And all were weeping, men with white beards.
The dog had perhaps been noble and faithful.

Thousands of pineapples came by steamer.
The policemen on the streets gave directions
in the most attentive fashion.
The church arches were splendid;
the pillars slender,
and when we were walking on the road
you wrote something in the sand with your foot.

My mind was like an angel sinking.
Among the ruins of four walls you showed me the sea –
how it and the starry sky were constructed.
It was ebbtide. I undressed.
How many hearses in the coming year?

The children herding cows were so beautiful.
One questioned me about the darkness.
Ships with all their sails, I said.
All the melodies of pain at every shift,
and then the endless moon, growing and growing.