They switch off the light and its white shade <br /> <br />glimmers for a moment before dissolving <br /> <br />like a tablet in a glass of darkness. Then up. <br /> <br />The hotel walls rise into the black sky. <br /> <br />The movements of love have settled, and they sleep <br /> <br />but their most secret thoughts meet as when <br /> <br />two colors meet and flow into each other <br /> <br />on the wet paper of a schoolboy’s painting. <br /> <br />It is dark and silent. But the town has pulled closer <br /> <br />tonight. With quenched windows. The houses have approached. <br /> <br />They stand close up in a throng, waiting, <br /> <br />a crowd whose faces have no expressions. <br /> <br /> <br />Translation by Robin Fulton<br /><br />Tomas Tranströmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-couple-9/
