Winter Comes

Winter Comes

I have news for you,
Stag bellows. winter snows,
Summer has gone,
Winds high and cold,
Sun low, short its course.

The streams running high,
Deep red, the branches
Their shape is lost,
Wild goose flies,
Cold has seized her wings,
Season of ice,
This is my news.

–Anonymous, Celtic poem

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4 thoughts on “Winter Comes

  1. Snow and Spruce Forest

    Talk about what home is—
    snow and spruce forest
    is home.

    From the very start
    it is ours.
    Before anyone has told us
    that it is snow and spruce forest,
    it has its place in us—
    and then it is there
    the whole, whole time.

    Waist-high drift
    around dark trees
    —it’s here for us!
    Mixed into our own breath.
    The whole, whole time,
    though no one sees it,
    we have snow and spruce forest with us.

    Yes, the hill under snow,
    and tree upon tree
    as far as you gaze—
    wherever we are
    we find ourselves
    facing this.

    And have in us a promise
    about coming home.
    Coming home,
    going out there,
    bending branches,
    and feeling so it flares in you
    what it is to be where you belong.
    The whole, whole time,
    until it is put out in our inland hearts.

    by Tarjei Vesaas

    Translated from Norwegian by Roger Greenwald
    to listen to it in norwegian by Darkthrone

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