Don't come to me with the entire truth
Kuppern on skates at Squaw Valley
This is not the kingdom of the poor
We don't sail the same sea
There is nothing so scary
I stand here, do you understand
To the memory of old Vamråk
Let me be like the dung beetle
The old poet tries his hand at being a modernist
Leaf huts and snow houses
Read Lu Chi and make a poem
The old poet has made a line
Snowmen in the green hayfield
Mountains don't attract me anymore
Years of experience with bows and arrows
For Bodil who sent me a record of Bach and Handel
I stop under a lamppost on a snowy evening
When all is said and done
Mountains are hard to move around
