No 72
but one day somebody will
give elegiac speeches on the emissaries
the travelling preachers
with their vibrating tongues of resonance
and the petrified truths
well hidden inside
in the suitcases packed for America
placed at the very back in the passenger boat
write scorching
obituaries in deep September evenings
when people are gathering sheep in the steepest mountains
and are kicking brown-bitten apples on the bonfire
because this is what it is like
when the harvesting of the living and the dead starts
one simplifies and adds
in order to live here
(72 from kjensla av at det ikkje regnar andre stader enn her 2004 translated into english by Hilde Petra Brungot)
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