I am standing on the seashore. A
ship
spreads her white sails to the
morning
breeze and starts for the ocean.
I stand watching her until she fades
on
the horizon and someone at my side
says.
"She is gone." Gone where?
The loss of sight is in me, not in her.
Just at the moment when someone
says,
"She is gone," there are others who
are
watching her coming. Other voices
take
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
t´aimer.
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