Night is drawing nigh–Each day the first day:
each day a life.
Each morning we must hold out the chalice of our being to receive, to carry, and give back.
It must be held out empty–
for the past must only be reflected in its polish, its shape, its capacity.
From a poem by Dag Hammarskjöld, from "Markings", 1957, written on
the podium for "Concave, a graphic sheet"
Translated from Swedish by Leif Sjöberg & W.H.Auden
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