September
30 October 2008
A stranger came to the door at eve, And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his hand, And, for all burden, care. He asked with the eyes more than the lips For a shelter f
How countlessly they congregate Over out tumultuous snow, Which flows in shapes as tall as trees When wintry winds do blow. As if with keenness for our fate, Our faltering few steps on To white rest,
En natt, droger och obskyra 80-talsband...
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