I have to confess, I am not the guy reading too much Poetry these days. I did when I was younger, lots of different things and of course the unavoidable stuff like the Danish Poet Michael Strunge and the French Arthur Rimbaud. Well… who hasn’t ?
Anyways… one of my favorite poems is actually by a very unknowm Norwegian, Arnulf Øverland, whose poem “Til en Misantrop” I discovered in a very remote hut when hiking the Norwegian Mountains… my primary occupation when I was a kid and in early manhood… actually, the simiar kind of quest as running marathons. Long hard days in Nature, beautiful eyesights, lots of struggle…
I often think of this Poem, “Til en Misantrop“. My snobby and hilariously self-righteous neighbours remind me. The News on the Television reminds me. The loved ones that I have buried remind me. My own history reminds me. The Poem itself reminds me.