Engelske dikt/sanger som handler om døden/livet etter døden?

[Mus-Katt]

Heisann

Jeg er på jakt etter et dikt, eller utdrag fra en sang, som handler om liv/død/livet etter døden.

Personen pleide å gå i kirken hver søndag, selv døtrene og mannen ikke gjord det. Hun mistet også sin 10 år gamle sønn for 25 år siden, så jeg kunne tenkt meg å ha med et dikt som handler om håper om å "møtes igjen", eller at man møtes igjen, ikke nødvendigvis i himmelen, men da etter døden.

Er det noen som har noen gode forslag? Jeg vil helst ikke ha med "Gud" i diktet, da jeg ikke er sikker på om de nærmeste var såpass troende som henne.

[Pawn Hearts]

Existence is a stage on which we pass,

a sleepwalk trick for mind and heart;

it's hopeless, I know, but onward I must go

and try to make a start

at seeing something more

than day to day survival, chased by final death.

if I believed this the sum of the life to which we've come,

I wouldn't waste my breath.

Somehow, there must be more.

There was a time when more was felt than known

but now, entrenched inside my sett,

in light more mundane, thought rattles round my brain:

we live, we die...and yet?

In the beginning there was order and destiny

but now that path has reached the border

and on our knees is no way to face the future, whatever it be.

Though the forces which hold us in place

last through eons in unruffled grace

we, too, wear the face of creation.

As anti-matter sucks and pulses periodically

the bud unfolds, the bloom is dead, all space is living history.

It seems as though time must betray us yet we're alive

and though I see no God to save us, still we survive

through the centuries of progress

which don't get us very far.

All illusion! All is bogus...

we don't yet know what we are.

Laughing, hoping, praying, joking, Son of Man,

with lowered eyes but lifting hearts, we're grains of sand

and though, in time, the sea may claim us for its own

we are the rocks which root the future - on us it grows!

We might not be there to share it

if eternity's a jest but I think that I can bear it

if the next life is the best.

Even if there is a heaven when we die,

endless bliss would be as meaningless as the lie

that always comes as answer to the question

"Why do we see through the eyes of creation?"

Adrift without a course,

it's very lonely here,

our only conjecture

what lies behind the dark.

Still, I find I can cling to a lifeline,

think of a lifetime which means more than my own one,

dreams of a grander thing than we are.

Time and Space hang heavy on my shoulders...

when all life is over who can say

no mutated force shall remain?

Though the towers of the city are denied to we men of clay

still we know we shall scale the heights some day.

Frightened in the silence, frightened, but thinking very hard,

let us make computations of the stars.

Older, wiser, sadder, blinder, watch us run:

faster, longer, harder, stronger, now it comes...

colour blisters, image splinters gravitate

towards the centre, in final splendour disintegrate.

The universe now beckons

and Man, too, must take His place;

just a few last fleeting seconds

to wander in the waste,

and the children who were ourselves move on,

reincarnation stills its now perfected song,

and at last we are free of the bonds of creation.

All the jokers and gaolers, all the junkies and slavers too,

all the throng who have danced a merry tune...

human we can all be, but Humanity we must rise above,

in the name of all faith and hope and love.

There's a time for all pilgrims, and a time for the fakers too,

there's a time when we all will stand alone and nude,

naked to the galaxies...naked, but clothed in the overview:

as we reach Childhood's End we must start anew.

And though dark is the highway,

and the peak's distance breaks my heart,

for I never shall see it, still I play my part,

believing that what waits for us

is the cosmos compared to the dust of the past.

In the death of mere Humans Life shall start!

(Van der graaf Generator: Childlike Faith in Childhood’s End)

Den er lang, men du kan nok finne sitater du liker. Slik som:

We might not be there to share it

if eternity’s a jest

But I think that I can bear it

if the next life is the best

Endret 15. oktober 2012 av Pawn Hearts

[Pawn Hearts]

Må det være på engelsk? Jeg kom på et nydelig dikt av Nils Ferlin:

Inte ens

Inte ens en grå liten fågel

som sjunger på grönan kvist

det finns på den andra sidan

och det tycker jag nog blir trist.

Inte ens en grå liten fågel

och aldrig en björk som står vit -

Men den vackraste dagen som sommaren ger

har det hänt att jag längtat dit.

EDIT:

På norsk har vi selvsagt Tir n'a Noir med Vamp.

Endret 15. oktober 2012 av Pawn Hearts

[Gjest Belle Gunnes]

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

Av: Mary Elizabeth Frye

Denne har gitt meg mye trøst i mine tap.

Endret 15. oktober 2012 av Belle Gunnes

[Mus-Katt]

Hei og tusen takk for innspill

Pawn Hearts: ja det må være, det er ikke i Norge og jeg får det ikke til på språket de snakker her til lands, så det må bli på engelsk.

Belle Gunnes: Det er kjempevakkert, og det var det jeg hadde tenkt å bruke Men så forteller min mann at de har vært mye på graven til sønnen som døde da han var mindre, og bruker mye tid der, så det passer ikke så bra sånn sett :/

Igjen, tusen takk for innspill fra dere

[Gjest Stjerner og planeter]

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Endret 17. oktober 2012 av Stjerner og planeter

[Gjest Reza08]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FIJBC9WNXU

Westlife - Too Hard Too Say Goodbye