Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Steinar Opstad

New trees are born to be yellow

New trees are born to be yellow
and I, who will not clothe myself,
walk naked
Leaves blow in
with an evangelical ego

An unknown body in leaves:
Old-fashioned as in a graveyard
where two people quarrel
and cry and place their hands together

New trees are born to be yellow

Nye trær er født til å gulne
og jeg, som ikke vil kle av meg,
går naknere
Blader blåser inn
i et evangelisk ego

En ukjent kropp i løv:
Gammeldags som på en gravlund
der to mennesker krangler
og gråter og legger hendene sammen
Close

New trees are born to be yellow

New trees are born to be yellow
and I, who will not clothe myself,
walk naked
Leaves blow in
with an evangelical ego

An unknown body in leaves:
Old-fashioned as in a graveyard
where two people quarrel
and cry and place their hands together

New trees are born to be yellow

New trees are born to be yellow
and I, who will not clothe myself,
walk naked
Leaves blow in
with an evangelical ego

An unknown body in leaves:
Old-fashioned as in a graveyard
where two people quarrel
and cry and place their hands together
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