the poetry that matters

Kjell Forsstöm

Kjell Forsström was born in Lund. He attended fine arts courses, though never completing his studies.

IS (Uhu Bücher, 2013), translated into italian by Patrick Oswald, is his first book of poems, which he speaks of as a collection of “handwriting, dead and living languages on paper”. Some asemic experiments of his are hosted on The New Post-Literate internet gallery. His blog on the internet: http://outaut.wordpress.com/



nirgends wird tod sein
als innen [1]
i mörkret
långt inne
i mörkret
långt inne [2]

es dämmert [3]

|rummet är tyst|
ljus ur skogarna

ur alla lemmar [4]

                    posita cum pelle senecta [5]

                    dying of one's own death
                    at the crossroads of all
                    lives, death by death
                    breath by breath in the
                    appointed shell of earth

                                                |die seele litt| [6]
                                                skinned soul

en dag blir damm [7]
die jahre sich gleichen [8]

der zugluft, die seelen

                kreisten um
                das alte haus [9]

planets cannot achieve such high velocities

buses run empty through the darkness of the cities

souls and bees, about the same flower,
rose of the garden of silence, fly to no end,
the last ones of their kind

ett moders-ansikte
ett döds-ansikte

                           av jord
                        av sten
                        av aska

                        av mörker [10]


where the border ran
down the middle of a whin

-field, the schythe of the wind
shook all the stems, soothed
the echo of the running steps

walking to the old house he has

to walk out among the trees,
an oak, a birch, a beech, pass
by and shake the pale rose
«Oh, shake the dead bell!»
that only grows in rows
in the garden of exile
where the dew trembles


es sind rosen
im regen

und der tod
ist eine blume
zwischen den
rosen: «welche
blume tat dir
dort weh?» [11]


[1] Nowhere will be death but in ourselves
[2] in the dark, in the depth of the dark, in the depth
[3] It gets dark
[4] In the room |the room is quiet| the light out of the woods, out of all limbs
[5] The old age sloughed off with the skin
[6] |The soul suffered|
[7] One day becomes dust
[8] Years resemble one another
[9] Draughts and souls gravitated about the old house
[10] The mother face, the death face, of land, of stone, of ashes, of dark
[11] There are roses/ in the rain/ and death/ is a flower/ among the / roses: «which/ flower hurt/you?»



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                                                                                                             May 12, 2013