WILLIAM HEINESEN
“Arcadian Afternoon”

The cow is nothing less than elemental–mythological–monumental–a symbol of the great cycle of life. Into her mouth goes the grass of the the green and flowering meadows, the very growth of the soil, and turns into meat and torrents of milk; and even her waste matter, useless is ordinary housekeeping, goes back to renew the soil and the grasses with its fertilizing elements.

Luxuriant and smelling pleasantly of vegetation, the udder-bearing cow is nurse to the children of Earth, a protectress and good fairy to her wasteful and cunning exploiter, Homo sapiens, in whose language she has been relegated in modern times to a position of mere ridicule and odious comparisons. Stupid as a cow. Clumsy as a cow. Yet at the same time man smugly pours cream in his coffee or consumes his cheese dishes and caramels. But then of course he is so infinitely intelligent, this master of all creation, while the cow is ineffably low-browed and shallow brained.

Quite so. You don’t find much guile in a cow’s eye–no ulterior motives or cabals, no ambition or rank consciousness, and no warlike passions. But this great primeval gaze, deep as a well, is nevertheless an extraordinary thing to experience; it is like peering into the depths of the night sky. And how was it now–didn’t we learn in school that the Goddess of Wisdom, Pallas Athena, was cow-eyed?

WILLIAM HEINESEN
The Lost Musicians

The tiny rocky shore is to the vast ocean just about the same as a grain of sand to the floor of a dance hall. But seen beneath a magnifying glass, this grain of sand is nevertheless a whole world with mountains and valleys, sounds and fjords and houses with small people.

WILLIAM HEINESEN
"So As Night Comes"

A burning whirlwind in the evening
the snow is swirling.

Your years are such a whirlwind
rushing to the end.

Strange, bottomless joy
transforms the usual appearance of snowflakes.
Secret joy
hidden delight
awakens the changing snow pattern.

And now,
late evening, thought
will flash
and at night it suddenly flashes, overshadowing,
what was the modest contribution of your knowledge,
the dual and eternal mystery of existence,
what was called your life:

In this whirlwind you were the only snowflake
on the way to death,
to the great continuous darkness.

WILLIAM HEINESEN

"Rain in Leningrad"

____________________

It rains in the gray-light evening

over mirror-wet streets

over the bay and the dim river.

Quietly the grass trembles on the graves of the dead

under the steady rain.

Everywhere in the falling wetness

stand young leafy trees

planted by the city folk

after war’s end and victory

and bitter loss.

Every man every woman every child,

their hope’s green tree.

In the Winter Palace there is a hall

of pure gold.

Today it was full of silent, staring people.

This evening only the gold is at home

behind rain-wet panes in the dark halls.

WILLIAM HEINESEN

“Arcadian Afternoon”

____________________

The cow is nothing less than elemental–mythological–monumental–a symbol of the great cycle of life. Into her mouth goes the grass of the the green and flowering meadows, the very growth of the soil, and turns into meat and torrents of milk; and even her waste matter, useless is ordinary housekeeping, goes back to renew the soil and the grasses with its fertilizing elements.

Luxuriant and smelling pleasantly of vegetation, the udder-bearing cow is nurse to the children of Earth, a protectress and good fairy to her wasteful and cunning exploiter, Homo sapiens, in whose language she has been relegated in modern times to a position of mere ridicule and odious comparisons. Stupid as a cow. Clumsy as a cow. Yet at the same time man smugly pours cream in his coffee or consumes his cheese dishes and caramels. But then of course he is so infinitely intelligent, this master of all creation, while the cow is ineffably low-browed and shallow brained.

Quite so. You don’t find much guile in a cow’s eye–no ulterior motives or cabals, no ambition or rank consciousness, and no warlike passions. But this great primeval gaze, deep as a well, is nevertheless an extraordinary thing to experience; it is like peering into the depths of the night sky. And how was it now–didn’t we learn in school that the Goddess of Wisdom, Pallas Athena, was cow-eyed?

JØRGEN-FRANTZ JACOBSEN

____________________

It is precisely the enormous tension between sorrow and joy that makes life great. I have had my greatest moments when the sparks have flown between sorrow and joy. And death is fundamentally the brilliant relief to life. Life is great and demonic, worthy of being loved and obeyed. And the greatest thing in life is again resignation.