For a Northern Reader
Until the light has
failed as if bereft
the white mist
barely infiltrating
the trees
and as if they were painted
on a green landscape the animals
descending to their black shelters
come to a standstill
at the edge of our gaze
resolute
half his journey done
our ailing neighbor too
pauses
reckoning the distance left
W. G. Sebald
A Public Space Issue 15 - 2012
Translation copyright © 2012 by Iain Galbraith
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission