I am standing on the seashore. A
spreads her white sails to the
breeze and starts for the ocean.
I stand watching her until she fades
the horizon and someone at my side
"She is gone." Gone where?
The loss of sight is in me, not in her.
Just at the moment when someone
"She is gone," there are others who
watching her coming. Other voices
glad shout, "Here she comes,"
and that is dying.
(Henry Scott Holland)
Staffans last birthday, he turned 59.
Appelles-moi comme tu le faisais
avant, je t´entendrai, je continue de