Med lånade ord

Mina ord räcker inte för det jag skulle vilja säga dig nu, kära älskade vän. Men Dylan Thomas har gett uttryck för den rasande förtvivlan och sorg som plötsligt rycker undan marken under fötterna på en i livet, så jag lånar hans ord:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Jag hittar ingen vettig inspelning av dikten. Jag hade velat ha distade gitarrer gråtande och en mäktig, kraftfullt rasande hårdrocksröst till bakgrund av en tröstande stabil rytmsektion, men Youtube levererade inte.

Du vet var jag finns och hur man får tag i mig.