Friday, June 1, 2012

A June Morning


Memories Look At Me

By Tomas Transtromer

A June morning, too soon to wake,

too late to fall asleep again.

I must go out -- the greenery is dense

with memories, they follow me with their gaze.

They can't be seen, they merge completely into

the background, true chameleons.

They are so close that I can hear them breathe

though the birdsong is deafening.

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