…but above the next island, a broad construction rose before us
and on closer inspection we saw: flames shooting up behind the gate
and behind, within, figures in white were moving,
we could hear their singing. But we didn’t put ashore just there -

And we were sailing now on a fine sea, green, like crystal
transparent a mile on down to the sand at the bottom,
where it sparkled in the sun. It lasted all of a day
and we rocked to the light breeze, if only it might hold!

But the water remained as a cloud, just as scant and lucid,
luminous, we were afraid it might not be able to bear the boat.
And down there, lay a land, woods and trees across the fields, -

Highest up, at the top of a tree, something brutish was sitting,
raging, ghastly.
                           Beneath him, a herd of oxen
were grazing, a boy sat keeping watch over them,
banging out a willow flute all the while,
he looks up, there’s the monster and he runs.

It stretches out its neck, dashes down his head,
smashes his fangs into the bull’s spine,
lifts him up into his tree, and has gobbled him up
in a wink. The herd gallops off.
                    And what if we were to fall
into these fragile waters? The eel-whale might
just sling his coves upon us…

© Jørgen Sonne. Translation copyright © GSW