The calm days of September with their sun.
It’s time to harvest.
There are still clumps
of cranberries in the woods, reddening rosehips
by the stone walls, hazelnuts coming loose,
and clusters of blackberries shine in the bushes;
thrushes look around for the last currents
and wasps fasten on to the sweetening plums.
I set a ladder aside at dusk, and hang
my basket up in the shed. The glaciers
all have a thin sprinkling of new snow. In bed
I hear the brisling fishermen start their motors
and go out. They’ll pass the whole night
gliding over the fjord behind their powerful searchlights.
~ from The Winged Energy of Delight, Selected Translations
by Robert Bly (Perennial, 2004)
