Harry Martinson

Attempts to rescue through thought escape
and over-gliding from dream to dream 
often became our method. 
With one leg drowned in the emotional area 
the other with his support in emotional death 
we often stood. 
I asked myself but forgot to answer. 
I dreamed a life but forgot to be. 
I traveled everything but forgot about danger - 
because I was a prisoner here in Aniara.

How hard to believe in life after that. 
How right to wish for life after that. 
It is to show joy in living 
and desire to return to its beauty.

I asked myself but forgot to answer. 
I dreamed a life but forgot to be. 
I traveled all around but forgot about danger - 
because I was a prisoner here in Aniara

How great is not space, 
how powerful its mystery, 
how small I am.

For her, Christmas was a woodcutting, a festive ok she wore because she didn't dare to do anything else, knew otherwise or had thought otherwise. Had she just dared, she would have shot off the children's begging and greedy gaze during the Christmas (in food and sausages drowned) star. Had she just dared to think, yes, then she had spit on Christmas, the women's special lunchtime. But she didn't dare.