The Silence Afterwards 54/365

Try to be done now

with deliberately provocative actions and sales statistics,

brunches and gas ovens,

be done with fashion shows and horoscopes,

military parades, architectural contests, and the rows of triple traffic lights.

Come through all that and be through

with getting ready for parties and eight possibilities

of winning on the numbers,

cost of living indexes and stock market analyses,

because it is too late,

it is way too late,

get through with and come home

to the silence afterwards

that meets you like warm blood hitting your forehead

and like thunder on the way

and the sound of great clocks striking

that make the eardrums quiver,

because words don't exist any longer,

there are no more words,

from now on all talk will take place

with the voices stones and trees have.



The silence that lives in the grass

on the underside of every blade

and in the blue spaces between the stones.

The silence

that follows shots and birdsong.

The silence

that pulls a blanket over the dead body

and waits in the stairs until everyone is gone.

The silence

that lies like a small bird between your hands,

the only friend you have.


By Rolf Jacobsen
English Translation by Robert Bly