According to the Swedish critic and literary historian Staffan Bergsten (b. 1932) “Haydns gröna klang associeras i dikten även med andra egenskaper som inte direct går att tillskriva denne furstetjänande hovmusiker personligen: friheten från överhetens tryck, lugn självkänsla, beredskap att försvara centrala livsvärden men inte för stridens utan för fredens skull. De avslutande två strofernas metaforer är drastiskt överraskande i bästa Tranströmerstil. Normalt sett borde rullande stenar krossa allt i sin väg som är gjort av glas, men den oskuldsfullt genomskinliga Haydnmusiken rår de inte på. Dess hållning är inte våldsamt motstånd men heller inte eftergivenhet. Likt zenbrottaren låter den fienden falla på eget grepp. Kanske skulle man kunna kalla detta Tranströmers politiska credo” (Bergsten 2011: 255).

The preparedness to withstand these values (freedom, peace, tracts for the spirit) expectedly leads to a crescendo, reinforcing the overall impact of the poem, its content, sound and vividness: the destructive energy of the stones flying and rolling on the slope proves helpless before the fragile, yet impenetrable glass-house of the music which survives the pressure. This finale is surprising not so much with its metaphorical density that is generally typical of Tranströmer’s poetry as with its character of a political creed, as it is interpreted by some critics in Sweden, recalling that the poet was reproached and even overtly accused of civic passivity and lack of ideological commitment, particularly during that stage of his life and work (the 1960’s and the 1970’s). I would only mention, in passing, that the careful reading of many of his poems, such as the earlier Balakirev’s Dream (Balakirevs dröm) from his second book Secrets on the Way gives ample proof of the opposite with, inter alia, the author’s choice to make his statement in his own peculiar way, mustering up intense feelings with his typical idiomatic imagery and an atmosphere of a weird dream. The musical accompaniment to the dramatic experience of the Russian composer and pianist Milij Balakirev (1837-1910) who had to solve for himself the problem of political commitments and responsibilities of the artist in a critically difficult situation, is a drum beat, while the particular stress laid on the black colour in the picture seems to evoke associations with the choice of imagery in some early films of Ingmar Bergman, The Seventh Seal (Det sjunde inseglet, 1957) for example. Here follows an excerpt: