Høst / Fall

R.B. Johannessen

Høst

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I
Heftige ord,
knugende stillhet...etterpå.

Regnet glir ustoppelig nedover ruten.
Hodet fullt av tanker.

Hva var det vel hun mente?
Ville hun helst jeg...Kanskje...

Pusten hørtes over det monotone suset
fra viften borte i kroken. Ble tyngre.
Angsten...setter seg.

II
Hellen vipper; porten slår igjen av seg selv.
Kaldt regn i ansiktet. Roligere nå.
Vann over veien. Vann overalt.

Et vindkast rykker i treet ved lyktestolpen.
Blader faller tungt gjennom det urolige lysskjæret.
Klistrer seg til asfalten.

Vet det nå: Ingen vei tilbake.
Mørket foran beksvart; veien borte.
Tanker...Bare går og går.


Fall
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I
The heated words,
the crushing silence afterwards...

Rain hits the window pane,
slips downward, out of sight.

What did she mean by that?
Would she rather I...Maybe...

He can hear his own breath now;
an icy chill surges from within.

II
The slab gave. The wind closed
the gate. Cold rain hits his face.
Puddles in the road. Water everywhere.

A slanting lamp post...a gust of wind
shakes the black alder...leaves fall heavily
through the unsettled light.

There is no turning back. The road
gets darker; hard to see, leads nowhere.
Icy chill inside. He keeps on walking.



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Translated from Norwegian by R.B. Johannessen. Photo: Dave Ward Photography (flickr). URL/AWIP.

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