NIGHT WANDERING
The rain had stopped, leaving only naked trees, dripping quietly,
black branches woven in the moonlight,
and a soft glow on the wet slate roofs.
All was tranquil, cool, and filled with dampness.
The earth, tired from the day, drank and dreamed,
merged with the breath of night,
and the moon was round and bright with joy.
Nothing was as before — the blind
nervous din of life was quelled,
and no one knew what night was thinking.
It rested, attentive as a woman who is loved.
The towers stretched silently to the barren
sky’s expanse of fog and stardust,
while the wind trembled in the wet leaves,
still troubled by the tears that had fallen.
The canal’s dark water lapped on the beach
with a soft pulse like a child asleep.
The light glittered on the black waves
like day and night together at play.
All was beautiful; all gray and dusty pain
was washed away by heaven’s warm tears.
In moonlight and dampness the city lay there
completely forgetting why it was sad.
It slept in peace, yet alert to dreams.
A church bell tolled three crisp tones,
and the night approached us, anxious about daytime,
as we walked with it into the morning mist.
By Tove Ditlevsen 1939
Translated from Danish by Michael Favala Goldman, 2022