Editorial: at rest. At home


«My father’s land, my dearest love, I’ll never thee forsake, And should I die a thousand deaths, That penalty I’ll take! Let jealous strangers say their part, They’ll never tear thee from my heart, My father’s land!» as goes a best known poem known and sung in Estonia, by Lydia Koidula, to then state the solemn desire to «lay to rest here in thy bosom, my sacred land Estonia!» 

Indeed, national identity does take the vertical dimension beyond the natural.

Belonging, among other things, gets defined by being buries along with not relatives alone but alongside the great souls of one’s nation.  

Now on that path from Sweden are the poetess Marie Under, her daughter Hedda, sister Berta and husband Arthur Adson.

For Ms Under, it will bring the added blessing of closeness to mother Leena.

«Someday I’d long / to be back home. / In native soil / to rest my bones,» as a poem of hers might be translated to have ended, dating back to 1954.  

By that, may we be enriched.

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Keywordsdeathsestonialydia koidulamarie undersweden
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