Munch-Petersen, Gustaf Uddrag fra nights

there are nights when I know much -
when the unseen rivers are felt
creeping blackly beneath my feet,
carrying silently the directions of the world's caravans -
nights when no man,
and no cry does mean much -
there are nights when the rivers show new ways of life,
only for the proud to use -
for bursting wombs
to blossom,
for dying hearts
to kill -,
silent nights -,
nights for great tribes
to change their path for ever -,
for weapons never heard-of
to be seized by sleeping fingers -,
nights without speech -