Varherres Klinkekuler - Erik Bye

Jeg drømte at vår Herre var en pode med reven brok og skrubbsår på hver legg

Jeg så ham klinke kule med vår klode i muntre sprett mot universets vegg

Han klinket han var glad og det var sommer og solen tente lyn i farget glass

Og tusen kloder rislet fra han lommer for i vår Herres lommer er det plass

Og klodene fikk danse, sveve, trille til glede for hans hjerte og hans syn

Så ble han distrahert, og glemte spillet En sommerfugl strøk vingen mot hans

bryn!

Å for en dag å fange sommerfugler!

Det vakreste av alt han hadde skapt

På marken lå Vårherres klinkekuler og følte seg alene og fortapt

Omsider kom han trett, som alle poder når det er kveld og leken har vært sen

Han lå på kne og samlet sine kloder.

Da så han at han hadde mistet en

«Den lille blå!

Den minste av dem alle!

Han lette under gress og sten og hekk

«Og den som var så blank i solefallet!»

Men mørket kom, og kulen den var vekk

Det var vår egen Jord som var blitt borte, og marken lå der nattekald og våt

Og Gud gikk hjem og hurtet i sin skjorte.

Men jeg kan ikke huske om han gråt

Og vi som av den lille jord en båren og tror at intet teller uten den

Får drømme at Han leter mer i morgen og håpe at Han finner oss igjen

I dreamed that our Lord was a graft with torn hernias and abrasions on each leg

I saw him clinking our globe in cheerful bounce against the wall of the universe

He clinked he was happy and it was summer and the sun lit lightning in colored glass

And a thousand globes trickled from his pockets for in our Lord's pockets there is room

And the globes danced, soared, rolled to the delight of his heart and his sight

Then he was distracted, and forgot the game A butterfly brushed its wing against his

brow!

Oh what a day to catch butterflies!

The most beautiful of everything he had created

On the field lay Our Lord's marbles, feeling alone and lost

At last he came tired, as everyone does when it is evening and the game has been late

He was on his knees and gathering his globes.

Then he saw that he had lost one

“The little blue one!

The smallest of them all!

He looked under grass and stones and hedges

"And the one that was so shiny in the sunset!"

But the darkness came, and the cool it was gone

It was our own Earth that had disappeared, and the ground lay there night-cold and wet

And God went home and hurried in his shirt.

But I can't remember if he cried

And we like from the small earth a stretcher and believe that nothing counts without it

Can dream that He is looking more tomorrow and hope that He finds us again