The sun has long since gone down behind the Westside somewhere and
along the fjord the night slowly sails in.
It docks by the harbour and strokes along the streets
disguised as a cool southern wind.
My city, you lie restless even when your day is over. For you know that your night never will be long.
Your light will never be put out, no one pats your pillow -
but you will get a lullaby from me:
Good night, dear Oslo. Good night. Good night.
Good night, dear Oslo: Sleep well tonight.
In Schøningsgate a lone woman walks to the entrance hall and
locks the door with a chain put in tension.
- Tomorrow is the twentieth, then the pension is here
she thinks and goes to bed again.
On Drammensveien a cab whistles through the night and
by Skøyen it is hailed by a couple,
who smiles to each other in the light from the interior
before the door shuts and the car leaves.
In Tollbugata a Mercedes is driving by itself
and a girl looks towards Akershus.
Then they meet in Kongens gate, the light changes to yellow
and by Vippetangen have the two become soft.
By Egertorvet a couple is standing and speaking rather straight.
The green Volkswagen they have seen.
Then they must both move for the last Sinsen-tram and
the Freia-clock flashes a quarter to one.
Then the sweeping car sweeps Grønlandsleiret up and down
from Enerhaugen down towards Grønland's square.
And Lampa closes the door and the last guest goes
past a man who sits quietly outside.
From Vippetangen a woman walks slowly down towards Børsen,
by Grev Wedels plass she takes a cigarette
and thinks of a city that is much smaller than this one and
a brother she so wishes to see.