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And once again MotherOwl is not on her way home on a Tuesday, but on a Wednesday ... this is turning into a habit.
September har et melankolsk anstrøg, en stemning af fest før undergangen. Denne stemning fanger Frank Jæger præcis i sit digt "Septemberdårskab". Her kun en lille bid.
... Som om det ganske år er indeholdt
i denne månded, hvor det blæser koldt
og dog er lunt bag gærdets grønne grene.
Forsinket står en blomst og blomstrer ene.
... Det er igen september, og igen
skal sikkerhed og viden vejres hen ...
Frank Jæger 1959
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September is a melancholy month. The last show of of Summer's strength and joy before the decline. This mood is excellently captured by the poet of my youth, Frank Jæger. He was dubbed a light poet in his youth, but when I knew him in the years before his untimely death, he was a dark and - not bitter - but wronged man whit a big, red beard, gone wild and white. He drank too much, but talked more. I loved to listen to him, and only found out that he was a famous poet after he died and our local paper wrote an obituary praising him. Yes I was young and naïve, and he was a personality. I have the wan hope, that my unrequited admiration and my ignorance of his fame, may have been as much a consolation to him in these dark years as his company and poems were for me ...
... As if the year in toto is contained
In this one month of bitter winds,
And yet with warmth behind the green leaves of the fences.
Belatedly a solitary flower blooms.
... Again it is September, and again
Certainty and knowledge will be swept away ...
Solopgang/solnedgang: 6:18/20:01, dagens længde 13:43, aftaget 3:50