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Anne Pedersdotter: We will have a small house by the sea. Every morning I shall wake... my head on your shoulder. With a kiss I awake you. Then we hear from his cradle a little Martin crying. I pick him up. And as I found life at your breast, he'll find life at mine. The tenderness you gave to me, I give back to him. While I hum for him a song about us two. Isn't it lovely to think about?
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Rev. Absalon Pederssøn: I am tired. But I don't think I can rest. I come from a man who died in piety. But otherwise, if I think of all the sighs from other deathbeds I have sat by, I see only sin... and sin... and sin. The pleasure of the moment. The secret sin. Oh, Lord... what lives men lead.
Preben Lerdorff Rye
Extended Reading
