I found my bag o' books!

When I was unpacking this weekend, I realized all of a sudden that I didn't have my dance bag, which I'd filled with books, mostly Christmas gifts from my parents. Today I finally got it back -- Public Safety had it, because, thank goodness, I'd left it in the campus shuttle that I took from the airport. If I'd left it at the airport or on the plane, who knows if I ever would have gotten it back?

To celebrate, a poem from one of these new-used Christmas books (I filled my arms with poetry at a used bookstore), from the sometimes so-called Emily Dickinson of Sweden, Edith Södergran:

The Foreign Lands

My soul so loves the foreign lands
as if it had no homeland.
In foreign lands stand the enormous stones
on which my thoughts repose.
It was a stranger who wrote the mysterious words
on the hard tablet called my soul.
Days and nights I lie and think
of things that never were:
my thirsty soul was once allowed to drink.