Page 18 - Demo

Det var her%u2014Det var her. Akkurat herved bekken og det gamle nypekjerret.Sen v%u00e5r i%u00e5r, rosene er bleke enn%u00e5,nesten som kinnet dittden f%u00f8rste morgenen bak d%u00f8den.Men det kommer,bare lyset, bare duften, bare gledenkommer ikke.Men det var herog det var kveld og m%u00e5ne,bekkesildrs%u00e5nn som n%u00e5. Ta h%u00e5nden min,legg armen der.S%u00e5 g%u00e5r vi dasammen i sommernatten, tausemot det somikke er.It Was Here%u2014It was here. Right herebeside the brook and the old rosebush.A late spring this year, the roses are still pale,almost like your cheekthe first morning beyond death.But it%u2019s coming,only the light, only the fragrance, only the pleasurewon%u2019t be coming.But it was here,it was an evening with a moon,the brook trickling, like now. Take my hand,put your arm there.And we%u2019ll set outtogether in the summer night,silently, towardwhat isn%u2019t.