Sanoja: Vintersorg. Solens Rötter. Idétemplet.

En tanke bygger nya monster,
I tanken ligger varldsalltet gomt
Den oppnar stangda portar och fonster
Och fann sin stig i det vi redan glomt

Der foregaende tanken, som bar en historia
Av tankarverksamhet
Uppvackt sken den av skapandets gloria
Men domd att fornya sin singularitet
Den brot sig fri, fran sina ursprungstommar
Och skankte liv at gangna drommar
En elektrisk impuls som klarade sin examen:
Att verka bortom den fysiska lekamen

For var och varenda konklusion
Som lamnar ideernas hus
Skapas ett kosmos, en ny sektion
Av funderingar och brus

Som sedan blir till nya ord,
En egen existens
Ord pa ett papper, pa nagons bord
Blir till tankekondens

Som droppar in i dennes liv
Och forandrar dennes inkarnation
Lagger sedan grunden for nya initiativ,
Det har ar en tankes evolution
Och i varje sekund som tiden ger
Vidgas dess gesall
I dess kollektiv blir det fler, allt fler
Som stiger mot skyarnas pall

De brinner till och faller bort
Nar uppdraget ar slut
Men kan atervackas fran glomskans fort
Om vi manar dem en minut

Da pralar de i full ornate,
I de klaraste kulorer
Ur hjarnans sal, en frisk sonat
Besjunger dessa aktorer.

Dessa tankar bygger nya monster,
I tankarna ligger varldsalltet, gomt
De oppnar stangda portar och fonster
Men de fann sin stig I det vi redan glomt

[English translation:]

THE TEMPLE OF IDEAS

A thought builds new patterns,
The Universe lies hidden in the thought
It opens closed gates and windows
And found its path in that which we had already forgotten

The previous though, which carried a history
Of activity of thinking
Awoken it shone with the halo of creation
But doomed to renew its singularity

It broke free, from the reins of its origin
And gave life to bygone dreams
An electric impulse which passed its exam:
To work beyond the physical body

For each and every conclusion
That leaves the house of ideas
A cosmos is created, a new section
Of thoughts and noise

Which then turns into new words,
An existance of its own
Words on a paper, on someone's table
Turns into a condensation of thoughts

Which drips into his life
And changes his incarnation
Then makes the foundation for new initiatives,
This is the evolution of a thought
And in every second gifted by Time
Its journeyman is widened
In its collective there become more, yet more
That rise towards the skies' covering

They burn shortly and fall away
When the task is completed
But can be awoken again from the castle of oblivion
If we urge them for a minute

Then they shine in full ornamentation,
In the brightest of colours
From the hall of the brain, a fresh sonata
Extols these actors.

These thoughts build new patterns,
The Universe lies hidden in the thought
It opens closed gates and windows
And found its path in that which we had already forgotten