As Eliot puts it:
“Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow…”
The late Swedish poet Karin Boye is another poet who has expressed the painful drama of spring exquisitely in her famous poem Of Course It Hurts (Visst gör det ont) which was published in 1935.
Of course it hurts
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking.
Why else would the springtime falter?
Why would all our ardent longing
bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor?
After all, the bud was covered all the winter.
What new thing is it that bursts and wears?
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking,
hurts for that which grows
and that which bars.
Then, when things are worst and nothing helps
the tree’s buds break as in rejoicing,
then, when no fear holds back any longer,
down in glitter go the twig’s drops plunging,
forget that they were frightened by the new,
forget their fear before the flight unfurled –
feel for a second their greatest safety,
rest in that trust
that creates the world.
(Verse 1 and 3. Translated by David McDuff)
These photos have been taking during my walks and biketours throughout April and were chosen in a rather arbitrary way.