(English version)

my soil in the arctic is issittumi nunap issua tassa uanga issora soil on arctic lands
it is as you know my body of soil
so the sloth is calling calling it calls the sloth arctic

arkhticós
(where doloro and dolorôs) are both
the slow properties of the mushroom
drowned in the strayed exotic nipisaap immua the milk of the lumpsucker
while undoubtably time dig in that decaying soil and slow growing roots on top
of the sleeping forest

arkhticós is dreaming
life’s microscopic conjunction to
the rapid changes of
the sunlight to the long and slow blue winternights
that reaches into the spring and then
the summer in the eternal flux
where the common harebell shows up a day or two through the mountaincrack
i see you harebell at the split of a second
red and blue at the
qaqqap qaavani kumak qarrakoq
somewhere between aasiaat and manermiut in the seventies
when i was old on the verge on death in the beautiful
unnuleraangat nillertilaarsimalluni

i walk on soft moss on top of water
it oozes up and down up and down it rests so quiet waiting
diving
rising
waiting for the first of cold nights in july
qerrunnissaq unnuami imarlu qaffalerpat tinusutut seqinermut saalluni tarrilersumi
and then the night falls the horizon lights it’s gone and your sight gets blue
over the plains
the declining sun’s last arches and flickering vaults
are reaching up like pillars
why is it called the breaking waves in danish it’s soil moist damp
sleeping underneath my feet
arkhticós dolorôs