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A Winter's Night

The storm the house rests his mouth and blows

to emit a sound.

restless sleep, I turn, I read the text of the storm

asleep.

But the child's eyes are wide open in the dark and the storm

moans for him.

both love the swinging lamps.

Both are halfway to the language.

The storm childish hands and wings.

The caravan was launched to Lapland.

And the house feels its constellation of nails

holding together the walls.

The night is still on our floor

(where all the steps muffled

rest sunk like leaves in a pond) but

raging night out!

The world is passing a more severe storm.

rests his soul to his mouth and blows

to emit a sound - we fear that the storm blowing

us empty.

Tomas Tranströmer