"Winter's Gaze":
I lean like a ladder and with my face
reach into the second floor of the cherry tree.
I'm inside the bell of colours, it chimes with sunlight.
I polish off the swarthy red berries faster than four magpies.
At once, after this joyously sunny opening, the tone darkens:
A sudden chill, from a great distance, meets me.
The moment blackens
and remains like an axe-cut in a tree-trunk.
Tomas Transtömer 



I guess I have future as a poet, don't you think Transtömer. I mean, I rather prefer being complicated at my images than his simplicity. 

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