TO SLEEP
The night's baptism of the deep,
you, in whose rivers
the spirit thinks it strokes against
the sea that is called death -
it is life's sea he touches,
life's to-be-feared beyond...
Pour your trance's riddle!
Slowly I step out into the subterranean
misty water that which unseen washes
the roots of our daily lives,
that which carries of foam of our daily lives -
that from whose darkness raised itself, woken,
too deep for what thought knows,
the body's fine, venerable, immense,
immense magnificence.
Pour your trance's riddle, wash from my spirit
the past day's faded dust and residue!
Death, who give life, let me plunge again
into the light, life-renewed!
Poem by Karin Boye
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Visiting Miami: Kenneth, Margareta, Birgitta and Magdalena.
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