One morning you move without understanding poetry, in the light there is no room, only thin dust, cold in the corners. Life arrives with its tulips, the scorch-marks of New Year’s rockets in the snow make you nostalgic. But what serves you? What is in your best interest? In a photograph taken in Turku in 1947 a grey horse is crossing a bridge. But what if this poem were to end like this: a boy leaves a girl with a certain melancholy – everything was new to them that night, they were disappointed.

En morgen beveger du deg uten å forstå diktningen, i lyset er det ikke plass, bare tynt støv, kulde i hjørnene. Hverdagen kommer med sine tulipaner, nyttårsrakettenes svimerker i snøen gjør deg nostalgisk. Men hva er du tjent med? Hva er til ditt beste? På et fotografi tatt i Åbo i 1947 krysser en grå hest en bro. Men hva om dette diktet avsluttes slik: en gutt forlater en jente med et visst vemod – alt var nytt for dem den natten, de var skuffet.