torsdag 3. januar 2013

There is always a certain risk in being alive, and if you are more alive there is more risk.


I lay on the edge of a green-coloured world.
Etched on the sky, stood pine-tree and fir,
Bees kept busying,
Bumblebees buzzing.
So it was, I suppose,
since the world arose;
Bees busying,
Bumblebees buzzing.


And I felt the wish to rob the wild bees
Of honey
Which cost no money---
Just free...
I searched all day,
But these days,
I must say,
You can't find bees
Just wherever you please...


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