Henrik Nordbrandt (1945–2023)

This book of poetry completely swayed me into another world of which I wish I had known long ago. The poems are of Henrik Nordbrandt translated by Patrick Phillips in a wonderful refreshing way. My joy reached the ears of heaven in discovering this book had not only the translations but the original writing too. These poems brought out emotions in a simply yet unique way that is simply indescribable. I felt each word, stanza, seen it and felt it embrace a very secret part of me. I would love a sound track of these poems to play over and over. Of the writings two really struck out at me. The first was titled: The Rebel’s Death Certificate,.. ( there is a house someone left many years back, there is a voice long ago that fell silent).., (there is a spring filled with poppies and cherry tree leaves.., there is a firing squad no one can see).., the visions and emotions this poem brought were of life, the sweet and beautiful and the harsh terrifying acceptance of even more. The second poem in which I felt deep within my bones and spirit is called: Pragmatic.., (The latter includes my new fountain pen, the familiar perfume, on the skin of a woman I hardly know, and the new light bulb I put in the lamp by the bed, by whose light, in every book that I read, I read about you).., This book did not merely take a place on my book shelves in my library; it travel to my office where I can enjoy it some more and maybe for always..
I received this book via goodreads and is one of my favorite of all time. I thank them truly for the opportunity to have escaped between its pages.… (plus d'informations)

Hver enkelt tekst fungerer som en lille sydende og ætsende syreperle, som Nordbrandt lader dryppe ned på vores fælles svinehud. Og hér gør den gavn på den smertefulde måde. Den efterlader små, betændte sår i vores selvforståelse, som vi forhåbentlig ikke kan lade være med at gå at pille i, så såret ikke for alvor læges. Og når vi så alligevel – i kraft af vores selvbedrag kombineret med kollektiv dovenskab – lader såret hele og danne arvæv, så drypper han en ny ned på os. Et svidende sår tilføjet vores pinefuldt vedligeholdte følelse af selvretfærdighed.… (plus d'informations)