Overwhelming sorrow

seized my heart in the desolate

   uplands

when tired I rested in the fir

    plantation

the weight of the kilometres while

    blustered

the west wind

I had left the pretty wood

the squirrels stayed there

my pipe tried to make clouds

    in the sky

which remained obstinately clear

I did not confide any secret except

    an enigmatic song

to the damp peat bog

the heather fragrant with honey

attracted the bees

and my aching feet

crushed the bilberries and the

    blaeberries

tenderly united

       north

       north

life twists itself there

in the trees

       and twisted

life bites there

       death

ravenously

when the wind howls

Translated by Winifred Radford