A poet of workers and life on the edge of Oslo. Despite his really precocious death, at the age of 28, he left us with three volume of poems. På stengrunn (On stony ground 1925), På gjensyn (On reunion 1926), and posthumously Hverdagen (Everyday).
When I was writing the post about minimalism, I was thinking a lot about its ecological side. As I wrote – you buy less, which therefore results off less waste etc. But what can you do to be more ecological in one day, rather than in long-range timeline, with choosing good quality products that last a long time?
Everyone usually has their philosophy – either generally on life, or more condensed, like on how to treat other or what to do in certain situations. Today, I will be sharing insight into my philosophy, which concerns most of the life aspects. Minimalism.
As a huge deal as it seems to be, Valentine’s Day nowadays is more about buying and consuming things, than it was ever before. It can be set along events such as Halloween or Women’s Day when it comes to popularity. But is it so in far North?
Remeber when I wrote about finding the weird statue or stone thing on little island in Hamar? If you haven’t read that, here’s link. As I promised, I will put the translation of the poem that’s on it, and all the information that I could gather about it. Enjoy!
Born in Oslo after the Second World War, inspired by André Breton, famous french writer and the leader of surrealistic movement. He created a whole world himself, just before he decided to end his life. Because life is sometimes too much to handle. But before he did this gruesome decision, he was the most influential modernist poet in ’80s and ’90s. His works are short, meaningful and for someone who’s not used to poetry – can be quite weird. His poetry isn’t called the background noise of the universe (David Winters at Full Stop) for no reason. Here are some of his poems that I’ve picked (and those who had english translation). Continue reading “Tor Ulven – the tragic poet.”
Today something different. To be more specific – a poem, I wrote after a walk through the forest. Because what’s better time for an ode, than the last day of the year?