Monday, 14 March 2016

One of many Henrik Nordbrandt poems with a bridge in it

When somebody dies

When somebody dies
his surroundings remain:

The distant mountains
the houses in the block
and the Sunday road which
passes over a wooden bridge
just before leaving the town.

And the spring sunshine
which in early afternoon
reaches a shelf with books
and magazines which doubtlessly
once were new.

It’s not the least bit strange.
Even so, I’ve often wondered about it.

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