Short Poems

Love while you've got
love to give.
Live while you've got
life to live.

or the light reflected off metal structures on the roof of the laboratory prior to a storm. The whitish sheets over a darkening sky, a series of regular solids, an obsessive repetition of inarticulate demands. Elsewhere there are holidays, banks circulating notes, a surfeit of intention, but here there are only moments, blocks of consciousness arrayed as patterns in fabric.

the history of melancholia
includes all of us.

Mein tujhe ko bhool chuka, Lekin aik umar ke baad
Tera kheyal kya tha ke chott ubhar aayi

Har musarat se sargarani hai
Kya yehi aalim jawani hai
Aa tujhe aik raaz batlaaon
Mein bhi fani hon, Tu bhi fani hai

Meditate within eternity.
Don't stay in the mind.

Your thoughts are like a child fretting
near its mother's breast, restless
and afraid, who with a little guidance,
can find the path to courage.

For Andres Speiderblik Rubinen lærte
En ydre Kulde, Fatning, Tvang og Baand, -
For Dig er den en Funke af mit Hjerte,
Et Ildkys paa Din Haand!

Har Pennen gjort sit sidste Træk,
Og standses af Papirets Skranker,
Tar jeg med Glæde mod den Rest af Blæk,
Som dengang ikke blev til Tanker.

Læg mig blandt Dine „Minder" ned,
Og skjænk mig stundom Dine Blikke: -
Jeg kom fra „gammel Kjærlighed",
Et Guld — Du veed — som „ruster ikke".

Med denne Kniv kan Du sprætte op,
Og see hver Tanke i Bogens Krop.