Cogito ergo sum
A dragonfly lives but a day.
I have a slightly longer stay.
Who’ll bet when his time disappears:
Maybe I’ll live a hundred years!
But just as naked as I came
I’ll end as has-been just the same.
As what? – As what’s but empty air.
Ah, friends a-plenty I have there.
Though I don’t know how things did end
for them. No letters do they send.
No card weighs down my mail box here
at Christmastide or the New Year.
The dead their death do not report.
We hold our lives up as support.
I see a lamb – quite still it sits
and thinks that therefore it exists.
The dragonfly though, I inquire,
which after one day will expire:
it does not think. – It lives maybe
in my eye’s lens exclusively?
To see the poem in Swedish, go to here.
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