Gavagai

"At last we emerged from the night mist."

No one recognized anyone now.

The faculty was lost on the journey.

No one asked or demanded: Who are you?

We couldn't have answered,

we had lost our names.

Far away hammered an unbending heart

still at work.

We listened without understanding.

"We had come farther than far."

Hello?

Hello.

Excuse me?

Is there anyone?

Oh! Hi. Hi. Hi.

Do you speak English?

Yeah. Yeah.

Yes. I speak English.

Do you know what time it is?

Quarter past 9:00.

Quarter past 9:00. Oh yes.

So, you wanna go on a

elk safari?

I want to go to Trysil.

To Trysil! I beg your pardon? Hmm?

I need a car.

You can go down to Siljan and...

I can't.

- Why not? - I... I cannot drive.

Why?

Can you help me or not?

We are not any taxi service.

I work with, uh,

elk safari and beaver safari.

I will pay you.

I'll give you... 3,000 crowns?

3,000 crowns?

And another 3,000 for the way back.

Yeah?

Why didn't you say so? Come on.

Yeah.

"Along the overcast road ashes after spent fire

and signs of breaking up in dust and heat.

Nothing else.

But the blaze that flared in the circle of voyagers

disappeared only to the eye

its desire unquenched.

They journeyed for a dream

were ready to give their all

intent on their quest in their unrest,

and the bonfire flares up

on every horizon,

while fresh seekers poke among the ashes...

So what's up in Trysil, my friend?

Sorry?

I mean, there's nothing up there.

The only thing you have is farms, trees, and goats.

It's hard to explain.

Yeah? Try me.

It better not be anything illegal, okay?

I... It's not.

Okay. Good.

Hey. You mind to

turn it off?

The music.

All right.

Suit yourself.

"Slender legs are moistened in the night grass."

Long bending stalks wake up with a start,

and brush their dew against passing knees.

A sweet secrecy.

Three light taps on the door, in quiet haste,

in a spellbound night.

A smiling mouth: Am I late?

My flesh is wet with dew, and fragrant,

"and my body a blossom turned to you."

So

this is it.

Have fun.

"Your knees are mine. And the warm moss."

And our young years.

Your shy thirst,

like mine.

And heavy like mine.

God's eye in a sun ablaze.

Your own confused in mine:

"Goodbye."

Hey, man.

Are you almost finished?

I gotta get back to my life.

How far is Vinje from here?

Oh. Vinje is

five or six hours.

Can you take me there tomorrow?

Well, I don't know...

I'll pay you.

Wait. I have lots of things to do, you know.

- It's like... - I'll give you another 10.

thousand krone?

Yeah. Sure.

I can take you. Okay.

Up. Voila.

"The scent of all my summers is a wreath about my hair,

is this all?

So few and fast!

So inexpressible were my short summers,

with hidden sap and desire.

Tonight the lamps flicker in the dance.

My bridal night.

The eyes of the room seek, wherever I am,

and the eyes of the room absorb.

My flicker is hidden.

My foot is quickly wearied.

My wreath.

"My wreath is heavy."

Hey.

"The mouth is blocked by a heavy stone."

The mouth is blocked by a heavy stone,

and earth with flowers on top through pelting nights.

But the great rivers run deeper.

The rivers run to the sea in floods,

run in torrents of floods

clear and muddy,

sometimes bloody.

The mouth is blocked for words.

The silent sea longs.

To rest there.

Ah. So

when are you gonna tell me what you're working on, hmm?

Come on. You can tell me. I'm not telling anyone.

I promise. Okay?

What is it?

It's like you're kind of a...

Lonely Planet guide to the

most lonely shit in Norway?

Are you kind of a whacko or something?

I'm translating some poems.