Christian Skaug Where you are, it is still bright. At the gates of Jerusalem, a black sun is alight. The yellow sun is hurting, sleep, baby, sleep. The Jews in the Temple’s burning buried my mother deep. Without rabbi, without blessing, over her ashes, there, the Jews in the Temple’s burning chanted the prayer. Over this mother, […]
Logg inn for å lese videre (abonnenter).
Støtt uavhengige nyheter!
Bli abonnentPluss-artikler blir åpnet 24 timer etter publisering. Artikler som er eldre enn to år er forbeholdt abonnenter.
