Well, the chanterelles had to be somewhere

[oakfarm]

 

 

When the runaway

was caught he’d gathered pockets-

ful of chantarelles.

 

From Prison yard haiku (1959) by Tomas Tranströmer, 1931-2015, awarded the nobel prize in literature 2011. Translation Robin Fulton.
 

One thing with Tranströmer is that he got aphasia back in 1990 and still wrote poems including more haikus after that. Now I don't know anything about aphasia, perhaps writing haikus despite having aphasia, is as rare as staying thin despite having prader-willi syndrome. Ok, obviously I don’t know anything about prader-willi syndrome either.

 

Speaking of poetry, I did read Dancing in Odessa by Ukrainan-Jewish-American poet Ilya Kaminsky and one of my thoughts was: “My poems are better than this”. That thought, for me, is proof that I don’t understand poetry. My real passion is biochemistry. Quite sure I'm not joking. Perhaps I should write more ... Perhaps another day. Here’s some other Tranströmer haiku.

 

An enormous truck

rumbles past at night. The dreams

of inmates tremble.

 

Wrongly spelled, those lives-

loveliness remains, the way

tattoo-marks remain

 

Come out of the swamp!

Sheatfish tremble with laughter

when the pine strikes twelve.

 

Sitting on a shelf

in the library of fools

the sermons untouched

 

Gaunt tousled pine trees

on the same tragic moorland.

Always and always.

 

Stag in blazing sun.

The flies sew, sew, fasten that

shadow to the ground.

 

With hanging gardens

a lama monastery.

Painted battle scenes.