Black Postcards by Tomas Tranströmer

The calendar is full, future unknown.
The cable hums the folk song from no country.
Falling snow on the lead-still sea. Shadows
wrestle on the dock.

In the middle of life it happens that death comes 
and takes your measurements. This visit 
is forgotten and life goes on. But the suit is 
sewn in silence.

~ from Selected Poems (The Ecco Press, 1987)