The Fireflies

It was the evening with fireflies
while we were waiting for the bus to Velletri
that we saw two old people kissing
under the plane tree. It was then
you said, half to the air
half to me:
Whoever loves for years
hasn't lived in vain.
And it was then I caught sight of the first
fireflies in the darkness, sparkling
with flashes of light around your head.
It was then.

(translated by Roger Greenwald)

Just Delicate Needles—

It's so delicate, the light.
And there's so little of it.  The dark
is huge.
Just delicate needles, the light,
in an endless night.
And it has such a long way to go
through such desolate space.

So let's be gentle with it.
Cherish it.
So it will come again in the morning.
We hope.

(translated by Robert Hedin)     

It Was Here—

It was here.  Right here
beside the brook and the old rosebush.
A late spring this year, the roses are still pale,
almost like your cheek
the first morning beyond death.
But it's coming,
only the light, only the fragrance, only the pleasure
won't be coming.

But it was here,
it was an evening with a moon,
the brook trickling,
like now.  Take my hand,
put your arm there.
And we'll set out
together in the summer night,
silently, toward
what isn't.

(translated by Robert Greenwald)       

                                       (translated by Roger Greenwald)

ROLF JACOBSEN (1907-1994) "helped to introduce modernism into Norwegian poetry. He published a body of work that earned him international recognition and established him as one of Europe's great poets.  His work has been translated into twenty languages, enjoying universal appeal in part because his clear, direct poetry so amply rewards re-reading.  This bilingual collection spans Jacobsen's fifty-year career and includes, for the first time in English, his final poems."  The Roads Have Come to An End Now (Copper Canyon Press) is translated by Robert Bly, Roger Greenwald, and Robert Hedin.

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