Michael Balner

Written in Norwegian and translated to English.

Om å våkne

Mens snøen ennå sakte smelter ute,
har våren ubemerket krypt inn i stuen min.
Små hvite blomster på en liten grønn plante
som forsiktig våkner opp fra søvnen sin.

Det er et lite fortegn til det som er i vente,
en skjære som lander med en kvist i nebbet, oppe i et tre
og fuglekvitter, mer ivrig enn på lenge,
gjennom sprekker i et blytungt tak kikker himmelen.

Jeg rusler litt ute og bader i iskaldt smeltevann,
kroppen kvikner opp til et nytt kapittel,
jeg glemte nesten hvordan det føles å være våken,
men jeg ser alt rundt meg klart nå, inkludert meg selv.

Text and image © michael balner 1.3.2026/347

About waking up

While the snow is still slowly melting outside,
the spring has quietly crept into my living room.
Little white flowers on a tiny green plant
that gently, yet excitedly, awakens from its sleep.

It’s a small sign of what’s to come,
a jay landing with a twig in its beak, high up in a tree
and bird songs more eager than in a long time,
through cracks in a lead-heavy ceiling, the sky peeks in.

I stroll a bit outside, and bath in ice-cold meltwater,
the body’s getting ready for a new chapter,
I almost forgot how it feels to be awake,
but I now see everything around me clearly, including myself.

Text and image © michael balner 1.3.2026/347

Spider

In a deep, dark corner of your heart
A spider devours you from the inside
The bigger he gets, the smaller you are
He knows you well, you cannot hide

You're just a fly who once got caught
In his web of lies, spun decades ago
You're stuck with him, you share his blood
Like it or not, he won't let you go

Panic and fear makes you shake and scream
You wriggle and squirm, but can't get loose
No help will come in this dreadful dream
You're a fish on a hook, a co**se on a noose

Wake up from your too long, foul sleep
Get a long, sharp knife and cut the string
Then walk away, rise your head, be free
Darkness be gone; come the golden spring

Text and image © michael balner 2026/2

I can't remember

The forest princess came to me last night
Followed by three robins, a frog and a blue-eyed deer.
She told me some things that I knew already
And she told me some things that were new to me.

She wore her glowing crown of sparkling stars
And danced gracefully between the mighty trees,
I asked her many questions and she got tired after a while,
So she made her bed of moss, weeds and fallen leaves.

She told me a secret, too, but maybe it was just a dream,
I can't remember what I asked her or what she said to me.
Now, she sleeps, and a flock of blackbirds plays quietly
In her snow-white duvet, a little game of hide and seek.

It's an early winter morning, dark, cold and fresh,
The birds stare curiously at me as I'm flying by,
Still trying to catch the rug pulled from under my feet
I know that I must catch it, but I can't remember why.

Text © michael balner 2026
Art ©merete mowinckel (a cut of The forest princess)