Poetry

 

From Listener

I was small in the listening days.
/- - -/
At late harvests toothless mouths told
of leprous marsh-spot in the seed and
the bitter bloom of ergot on the rye.
I grew cold at my childhood hearth

 

By Harry Martinson
From Nomad, 1931
Translated by Stephen Klass

Published with the permission of Eva Martinson