have you seen her lately?

First you let him in your bed. Now he's moved inside your head. And he directs all of the dreams your dreaming. I saw a friend of yours today, she called me over just to say "I dunno if you've seen her lately but God she's looking rough". No don't go round to see him tonight, he's already made such a mess of your life. Find something else to do with your time & do it quickly while you've still got the chance. Do you think he'll fall apart? Do you think you'll break his heart? If you leave him on his own. You are dreamin 'cos he can fasten all his clothes, tie his laces, blow his nose. It's time to teach him how to walk, yeah, teach your baby how to walk away.

I mörkt vatten - ilande - ilande.

Och ur detta kom skräcken, som dimman stiger ur kärrmarkerna framåt kvällen steg fru Skräck upp - som dimman stiger, stiger. Hon hade bytt bostad och adress, hon hade inte lämnat adress efter sig på det gamla stället - så långt hon förmått, var alla spår igensopade. - Men man vet ju aldrig. Man kan ju till sist aldrig veta om inte någon ändå uppsnappat något och är villig att ge upplysningar. - Hon visste ju aldrig vad en knackning på dörren kunde innebära: vem som kunde stå där.

(Birgitta Trotzig, Dykungens dotter, s78, Albert Bonniers Förlag, Trondheim 1994)

sillagille, det är påsk

buffalo

'Twas on Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
the children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,
grey-headed beadles walk'd before, with wands as white as snow,
till onto the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters flow.

O what a multitude they seem'd, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song,
or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

(William Blake, "Holy Thursday" ur SONGS OF INNOCENCE)

the sea was calm

Himlen kommer att falla,
tung och blöt och kall över den här stan
och nästa dag kommer vi att gå på himlens ovansida
och det kommer inte att vara knark.

matillda söderholm, serum #23-24 2004