found out today that one of my favourite poets, henrik nordbrandt - actually lives in turkey. call me childish...but this piece of news somehow managed to make me happy. and while i fantasise about bumping into my danish guru... here are some of his verses...
THE WHITE VASE
The summer has still not gone and you are still not gone and I am
still not gone.
And the door is closed and the afternoon sun warms the window-panes and
the shadows of the birch-trees darken
the dust on the black table with the white vase. And the dust just lies
there.
SLEEPING AROUND
I love to sleep around
in foreign rooms
with foreign women
and hear the rain on the roof
and hear the banana plant scraping against the gutter
and hear the water pipes gurgle
and a radio switch on in the room next door.
I love to hear a woman
break out in moans in a foreign language.
I love foreignness:
the one room more foreign than the other
the one woman more foreign than the other
the tiger’s roar in the yard under the moon.
I love when I am in love
with a certain one
and I hear all of these sounds
alone in the dark
THE OCEAN
When I return to the ocean it will be without me.
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