Ja, så kan det kännas
Stop all the clocks,
cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking
with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and
with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin,
let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning
overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message
She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white
necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear
black cotton gloves.
She was my North, my South,
my East and West,
My working week
and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight,
my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever:
I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now:
put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and
sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to
any good.
(efter W.H. Auden)
cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking
with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and
with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin,
let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning
overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message
She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white
necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear
black cotton gloves.
She was my North, my South,
my East and West,
My working week
and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight,
my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever:
I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now:
put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and
sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to
any good.
(efter W.H. Auden)
Etiketter: Sorg
posted by Gudinnan at 2:28 em
Det där är en av mina absoluta favoritdikter, vilket du kanske förstått eftersom jag lagt ut den i bloggen minst två gånger. Den gör mig alltid så sorgsen men ändå underligt lugn. För sorgen blir bekräftad, och saknaden.
Precis, den bekäftar sorgen och ibland är det vad som kan behövas. Att man får känna att det är konstigt att världen snurrar som vanligt fast allt har förändrats.