Men et digt.
Jeg synes at W.H. Auden beskriver de følelser der er i forbindelse med et tab, meget smukt i sit digt "Stop all the clocs". Både følelsen af at intet nogensinde kan føles godt igen, og at ens egen verden er gået i stå - og at det er ufatteligt at andres fortsætter uændret.
(og ja, det ER det der bliver læst op i 4 bryllupper og 1 begravelse)
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
) jeg skulle måske have startet med at nævne at det skal bruges i en samlet tatovering, og det derfor selvsagt heller ikke skal være så langt..