Hills of the North, rejoice; Rivers and mountain-spring, Hark to the advent voice! Valley and lowland, sing! Though absent long, your Lord is night, He judgment brings, and Victory.

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,-
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people`s feet
Still going past me in the street.

Kjærlighet

Er å være stille og lytte,
dypt i kildevann
blikkstille urørt -
men lett som en dråpe
som kommer
alle skyer flammer i disse dyp...
hensynsløsheten selv - misunnelse nei...
som regn som drypper av roser...