An Incomplete Earth

Hello Gentle Reader

The renowned Swedish poet and Nobel Laureate in Literature, Tomas Transtromer has died at the age of eighty three. Transtromer is considered one of the greatest and most influential Swedish poets after World War II. His poetry and poems have influenced writers in Europe, North America, and the Middle East. Transtromer was a mild-mannered wordsmith that preferred to avoid political debates and discussions, and the limelight. Instead Transtromer’s poetry was politically neutral and, enjoyed contemplating the larger aspects of the human condition: memory, nature, and death; but Transtromer was, also a psychologist, and in his simplistic yet surreal lyrical poetry, discussed the mysteries of the human mind. Yet because of his political neutrality, many of Transtromer’s contemporaries criticized the author for his lack of political engagement at the time. Yet his poetic vision maintained true, and eventually led him to become one of Sweden’s greatest living poets. Before the future Laureate was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature – as he was nominated every year since nineteen-ninety three; many had become to wonder if Transtromer would ever receive the Nobel. Yet in two-thousand and eleven, Transtromer did receive the Nobel Prize for Literature, and those that new of Transtromer were ecstatic to finally have seen the poet receive such an accolade; yet to some it came as quite a surprise seeing that Transtromer’s entire output was small, and after suffering a stroke which had led to his mobility and speech being impaired Transtromer’s literary output had ceased. Yet his poetry has survived, and will most likely to continue to survive and influence, with its unpretentious word choice, devotion to nature, the mysteries of everyday life and the human mind; but also the do consideration given towards history, memory and death.

"The Half-Finished Heaven,"
By Tomas Transtromer

"Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight.

The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a draught.

And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios.

Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds.

Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.

The endless ground under us.
The water is shining among the trees.

The lake is a window into the earth."

Rest In Peace Tomas Transtromer

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