Irrländske poeten W. B. Yeats (1865-1939) är upphovsman till den här dikten jag inte kan släppa taget om.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer,
and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now,
for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

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Foto: Linnea Aanes

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