Livet er det som hender mens du planlegger det... Life is what happens while you plan it...

August er det mykeste myke jeg kjenner,
denne skjelvende streng mellom sommer 
og høst,
denne dugg av avskjed i mine hender.
Dette hemmelige milde inn over jorden,
denne lysende stillhet;
Tal herre tal!
Dette lyset som hviler
på modningens høyde,
dveler og synker mot visningens dal.
Disse kvelder da trær er som
skygger i skyggen.

August is the softest I know
the trembling string of summer
and autumn,
this mist of resignation in my hands.


This secret gentle into the earth
this queried silence.
Speak Lord, speak!
This light that rests
the maturation altitude lingers
and decreases towards the viewer valley.


These evenings when the trees
are like shadows in the shade.


The following year the process of place
and sense
I dreamed that I went to eternity,
and one night in August was the first
strange subdued approval of the country.


I know in the middle of all that I do not know;
August is the softest I know,
soft as sorrow and love.


In August, I miss someone of ...
which is a longing no one can understand.

Der christliche Entschluss, die 
Welt hasslich und schlecht
zu finden, hat die Welt 
hasslich und schlecht gemacht.