Poetry

 

The electrons

With their round dance the electrons spin
chrysalises of that which abides,
the inmost cocoons
which do not open of their own accord
but are of that which abides.

There it is not a matter of hatching out.
There it is a matter of tending and protecting
the metamorphoses of the inmost
deeper-down swaying,
the innermost playing of women in dance.

 

By Harry Martinson
From Dikter om ljus och mörker, 1971
Translated by Stephen Klass

Published with the permission of Eva Martinson