Well, there are two more poems I want to read from The Lice,
and they are quite different from any of those.
And for the next one is a very short one,
it is much a winter poem called Come,
as those two little ones I read a minute ago were summer ones.
It seem to be so small that I can't find it.
It's a poem called "Dusk in Winter."
The sun sets in the cold without friends.
Without reproaches after all it has done for us,
it goes down believing in nothing.
When it has gone I hear the stream running after it.
It has brought its flute, it is a long way.