April
18 May 2007
rastlös fredagkväll.
jag som skulle plugga.
äsch.
Now I dream
Enwrapt in pure clouds of the sweetest oblivion
Where beauty streams
Freed from the teeth of those beasts that had come
To tear out her spells
In red lettered cells
Wherein even the
The silver Swan, who living had no Note,
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast upon the reedy shore,
thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:
"Farewell, all
Sadly one Sunday, I waited and waited
With flowers in my arms, for the grief I'd created
I waited 'til dreams like my heart were all broken
The flowers were all dead and the words were unspoken
Th
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