© 2019 by Kai Tormod Hansen

Dead Roses

The tale of decay. It is in the colors of the fall.

  After the blossom is finished the roses may dance, as elegant as anyone. For the next stage, they change shape and tell about the vulnerability of human flesh. In the dark end, the grotesque masks are made visible, but still there are often tenderness. This is the way for the roses in nature. 

  As humans we also know the end is waiting. Death is unavoidable, but it can be beauty in life and beauty in death. 

To My Wallflower

Wallflower mine, ere thy bright hues fade,

I shall be that whereof all is made;

ere thou hast shattered thy crown of gold,

I shall be mould.

When "Open the window!" I call, from my bed,

my last look is for thy golden head;

my soul will kiss it, as over thee

it flieght free.

Twice do I kiss thy lips so sweet,

Thine is the first, as it is meet;

the second, dearest, remember close

on my fair rose!

In bloom no more I shall it see;

so give it my greeting, when that shall be,

and say I wished on my grave should all

its petals fall.

Yes, say I wish that upon my breast

the rose thou givest my kiss shall rest;

and, Wallflower, be in Death´s dark porch

its bridal torch!

Henrik Wergeland 1845

translated by I.C. Grøndahl 1929