Den
høye og den lave mor
Hun
sier:
«Mitt
råd er dette:
Det
gjelder å holde reven
mett
mett
og
høna hel. »
Et
hellig moderbryst holder himmelen oppe.
Dette
berget har alle besteget
og
glemt. Selv Herren sover
på
sin trone av melk.
Jeg
snur meg.
Jeg
vender brystene ned.
Jeg
bøyer meg under barnet.
Et
barn kan drikke seg opp til øyne
som
våkner i skyenes melk.
Jeg
husker Herren slik han ble skapt.
Ordet
var hos meg før ham.
The
high and the low mother
She
says:
‘My
advice is this:
You
must keep the fox well-fed
and
the hen in one piece.’
A
holy mother’s breast holds up the heavens.
This
mountain all have climbed
and
forgotten. Even the Lord sleeps
on
his throne of milk.
I
turn round.
I
turn my breasts downward.
I
bow down to the child.
A
child can drink up to eyes
that
awake in the milk of the clouds.
I
remember the Lord as he was created.
The
word was with me before him.
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