Catching An Idea

I read this today. It articulates why (in moderate doses - too much can make you very miserable in my experience) poetry has a point. I read it in translation from the Swedish which begs a question I will never have the time or skill to answer - is it even better (or I suppose peversely worse - we should not discount this) in the original language?

From March 1979

Weary of all who came with words, words but no language
I make my way to the snow-covered island.
The untamed has no words.
The unwritten pages spread out on every side!
I come upon the tracks of deer in the snow.
Language but no words.

Thomas Transtromer (trans Robin Fulton)

Now isn't that rather beautiful?