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OTTFJÄLLET
So, I willed few see the than
once
that mountain that I loves to sow high
you Ottfjället became for me the memories'
mountains
here, I sang my fondest song.
Meets the light in the early morning
hour
stands the mountain and smiles equally an old
friend
the shines and sprakar of hundred colours
as the sun given to the snow again.
At Ottfjällets feet remember
I the friends' laughter
here each we so many even time.
And now is we scattered around our country
but the memory became left in my poem.
copyright, 1978 TP
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