Sleep Islands #88198
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Islands of Sleep. Poem by Baldur Óskarsson.
Timeland
The plain rests beneath the heart.
Clay humps stand guard, ready to turn against spring, while snowmen carry starlight for sacrifices that graze at the baby's manger. Fate dips its fingers in the pool water, and elves sing.
At such times, the peaks walk around with incense and pay their respects.
My seal is broken!
Who has drawn the shutters from the doors and released the river into these sleeping borders? The vegetation gives me a warm fragrance and the protests die in the waves. There my father stands at the mow and sparrows follow him, drawn across the meadow. Beyond the horizon of the yortar's anvil where he sharpens his scythe, yortar's fallen blows; my mother's rags dry in the high north, and the voice of the Stranger speaks to me from the heights like a tree trunk split lengthwise forming words that tear the eardrums. Then it starts to rain. Autumn paints red and yellow with watercolors, the cat purrs, grandfather comes to visit. Grandfather with a silver-tipped staff strikes a hollow sound from the earth, white in his eyes.
Timeland
The plain rests beneath the heart.
Clay humps stand guard, ready to turn against spring, while snowmen carry starlight for sacrifices that graze at the baby's manger. Fate dips its fingers in the pool water, and elves sing.
At such times, the peaks walk around with incense and pay their respects.
My seal is broken!
Who has drawn the shutters from the doors and released the river into these sleeping borders? The vegetation gives me a warm fragrance and the protests die in the waves. There my father stands at the mow and sparrows follow him, drawn across the meadow. Beyond the horizon of the yortar's anvil where he sharpens his scythe, yortar's fallen blows; my mother's rags dry in the high north, and the voice of the Stranger speaks to me from the heights like a tree trunk split lengthwise forming words that tear the eardrums. Then it starts to rain. Autumn paints red and yellow with watercolors, the cat purrs, grandfather comes to visit. Grandfather with a silver-tipped staff strikes a hollow sound from the earth, white in his eyes.