Photos

Photographer’s Note

Of course it hurts when buds burst.
Otherwise why would spring hesitate?
Why would all our fervent longing
be bound in the frozen bitter haze?
The bud was the casing all winter.
What is this new thing, which consumes and bursts?
Of course it hurts when buds burst,
pain for that which grows
and for that which envelops.

Of course it is hard when drops fall.
Trembling with fear they hang heavy,
clammer on the branch, swell and slide -
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the deep pulling and calling,
yet sit there and just quiver -
hard to want to stay
and to want to fall.

Then, at the point of agony and when all is beyond help,
the tree's buds burst as if in jubilation,
then, when fear no longer exists,
the branch's drops tumble in a shimmer,
forgetting that they were afraid of the new,
forgetting that they were fearful of the journey -
feeling for a second their greatest security,
resting in the trust
that creates the world.


Translation by Jenny Nunn

This poem was written by Karin Boye (1900 – 1941) and her statue stands outside the Gothenburg City Library.

To the left is an ice cream café.

mikolaj_kawa, Buin, feather, jlbrthnn, bukitgolfb301, fanni, Kielia, Ola_Kwiatek has marked this note useful

Photo Information
Viewed: 492
Points: 46
Discussions
Additional Photos by Gunnar Holmertz (saxo042) Gold Star Critiquer/Gold Star Workshop Editor/Gold Note Writer [C: 2168 W: 178 N: 2481] (15650)
View More Pictures
explore TREKEARTH