Jeg har fået tilsendt det fine tidsskrift The Bitter Oleander med en stor, rig feature om den færøske poet Tóroddur Poulsen,
inkl. dette barndomsminde:
When I got to middle school, I often played hooky after lunch and went to the library or down to the harbor. I also used to get up to Kirkjubøreyn when the weather was good. The rocky landscape up there fascinated me. I used write small poems on slips of paper and put them under the stones. Whenever I went back, I'd always look under the stones, but my poems were gone. I thought that huldufólk had taken them, so I wrote new ones and left them up there too. I hope those poems weren't published in the hulduworld, because they were lousy and rhymed.
(fundet på billedsøgning på "huldufólk")
og dette digt
Super 8
childhood
is
always
in front
like a
dog
pulling
a sled along
the ice
into
the sun
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