The Children Play at War - Gösta Ågren

The castle’s high walls

cannot shut out

the lack of enemies. Now

the knaves can no longer

manage to avoid

their soul, this vague sorrow,

and their idle

hands radiate like

useless pain.

Unprotected is the one

who lacks something

to protect himself against.

Action - Gösta Ågren

Every victory concludes

itself.  What remains is the way,

the same way again.  It is

possible to learn

knowledge, to conceal that

wild, nameless bird

beneath a name.  It is easy

to realise one's dreams

if one sacrifices them. And

the years, the years go by.  Yet

you must act now.

More profound than all that you do

is all that you are.  The most profound

is all that you must do

in order to be able to remain

who you are.

Afraid - Gösta Ågren

He was afraid of freedom,

for he wanted to be free to

choose it. He was afraid

of happiness, for he was afraid

of the time when the party is

over, also that part of the party

that consists of the time when

it is over. He was afraid of

life, for it lacked

secrecy, and therefore

mercy, and the reward  

for living, death,

was not enough, for

he was not afraid 

of it.

Death's Secret - Gösta Ågren

At Dusk - Gösta Ågren

I will be forgotten,

he thinks. Oblivion is

a deep mother. No one

will touch you there; no one

will forget you any more.

Advice - Gösta Ågren

When the silence begins to feel

oppressive

people ought to talk to one another; otherwise

it will stop.

Leo, His Life - Gösta Ågren

It was difficult to be, not

for the human in him, but for

the animal, which had not the strength to carry

the leaden weight of consciousness. The knowledge

that he was alive prevented him

from living. It formed

a sleepless face that looked

at his emotions until they crept

away like actors

from a bad performance

and that thought that he thought,

until each thought deepened to

nothing in this cold light. He

was himself the enemy, and wrote

books in order to defeat himself,

but in such a battle the only

possible victory is too great.

He won. In the silence

afterwards came a few

last fumbling words.

The Picture of Grandfather and Grandmother - Gösta Ågren

There they stand, seemingly without

secrets, for years and poverty

have made them distinct. Yet

the camera lies, like all who

say nothing except merely

the truth. He did as others do,

became a father, built his house.

She helped sick folk, practiced

kindness. But all his movements

were fingers of ash, fumbling

as the cold floor-draught

willed. Her kindness resembled all

other: a sternness that never

exhorts, but demands. Early

she knew it was

her only protection. So

it may have been, but perhaps

our life is only a line

in the poem about our life. Perhaps

we are not the name

we write, but

the nameless hand

that grasps the pen.

Victory - Gösta Ågren

The victor has no reason

to compete.  There is nothing

stronger than strength.  Your

victory is only a sign

that you need it.