Tomas Tranströmer

Jag översatte en dikt. Så här blev den:


He awakened by singing over the rooftops

Morning, May rain. The city is still silent
like a cottage. Streets silent. And in
the sky an airplane engine rumbles blue-greenly. –

The window is open.

The dream where the sleeper lies stretched out
then becomes transparent. He moves, begins
groping for the tools of attention –

nearly in space.