As boiling stream of lava you are,
scorched, you scorch,
or petrify. As stone by stone
stands everything at fate's gate.
As stiffened statue is all, what more of altar-service, of dance
or trade, –
only body's images, grey as cement or ashes. –
What you were, is the tones, your eye caught
and ear bore
as sounds in the face.
Gunnar Björling.
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