You've Become A Sound Yourself

Tor Ulven is a Norwegian poet whose sensitivity led him to create pieces that talked about his beautiful observations of the arbitrary, and how each and every moment of our lives is equally precious.   This sensitivity, ultimately led to his suicide at the young age of 42.

He wrote prose as much as he did poetry, however it is very hard to find his works in English.  Here's a rare translation of one of his poems:

Konsert VIII

You're flying, 
or levitating, 
drifting, 
through an enormous, dark room, 
a room of sounds;

Endless, 
dazzling glissandi, 
crackling pizzicati, 
coal-black turbulence holes of loud bass, 
but otherwise empty;

No planets, 
no meteors, 
but elegant clouds of dust 
after exploded music.

You're floating somewhere 
between pleasure and fear, 
in a time you cannot decide;

You find yourself everywhere else 
than in the presence.
And you disappear more and more 
inside these hidden rooms, 
and your character fades out gradually, 
your facial elements are erased, 
your body disintegrates, 
and the last thing you think is 
that you've become a sound yourself;

A thin, 
anonymous sound 
among all these others 
that cry in the empty, dark room.