<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353788" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Baltic Fog Notes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seven days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas.<br>I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff.<br>Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon.<br>Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite languages on a gray sky,<br>A night harbor, blue dusk mountain shoulders against a night sky,<br>And a circle of lights blinking: Ninety thousand people here.<br>Among the Wednesday night thousands in goloshes and coats slickered for rain,<br>I learned how hungry I was for streets and people.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would rather be water than anything else.<br>I saw a drive of salt fog and mist in the North Atlantic and an iceberg dusky as a cloud in the gray of morning.<br>And I saw the dream pools of fjords in Norway … and the scarf of dancing water on the rocks and over the edges of mountain shelves.<br>Bury me in a mountain graveyard in Norway.<br>Three tongues of water sing around it with snow from the mountains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bury me in the North Atlantic.<br>A fog there from Iceland will be a murmur in gray over me and a long deep wind sob always.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bury me in an Illinois cornfield.<br>The blizzards loosen their pipe organ voluntaries in winter stubble and the spring rains and the fall rains bring letters from the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Carl+Sandburg">Carl Sandburg</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353788" data-title="Baltic Fog Notes de Carl Sandburg" data-description="Seven days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas. I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff. Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon. Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite..."></div> </div> </div>

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