Two truths draw nearer each other. One moves from inside, one moves
and where they meet we have a chance to see ourselves.
He who notices what is happening cries despairingly: “Stop!
Whatever you like, if only I avoid knowing myself.”
And there is a boat that wants to put in – it tries just here –
thousands of times it comes and tries.
Out of the forest gloom comes a long boat hook, it is pushed in through
the open window,
in among the party guests who danced themselves warm.
Tomas Transtromer (1931 – 2015)
From The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (New Directions:2006) translated by Robin Fulton.
Here’s Transtromer, a practicing psychologist, anticipating the CalMac age with a luminous little fable.
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