A poem by the Norwegian writer Mona Høvring

THE LITTLE CHURCH DOWN BY THE SEA

Remember how we wasted water, girl?

We were careful, our hearts gently rippled

when we imitated goddesses, the clouds melted,

the months ran out of the calendar,

all was mobile and wet.

What were those day reminiscent of?

The nervous corals? That in us which breaks down?

Remember when we knew the names of all the waves

and everything blissful?

We were in the process of growing up, little girl,

we asked for protection for our mothers,

and for common sense.

And later, when we got lost,

it was out of pure obligation.