the traveler retires to rest,
a spiritual rest
with the silence of the mountains,
with the peace of the sea,
with god in nature,
of the trees,
from the sun of this Nordic country,
its cold rains...
mystic god
in your silence
you are radiant, majestic,
while I, the poor traveler,
looking for your hidden face,
I look at the great sea,
To find
Your splendor and glory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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