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.