[reads a poem
Sleep, child, just sleep. The sheep are taken to the fold - the cloud sheep to the fold. The wind circles the house. Odd is the sky, great is the land. The flames flickers restlessly. Slowly goes dark. Somewhere, a rising rhytm beats: Great is the night, odd is the night. Sleep, child, just sleep.
Vanha vihainen mies
Shut up! People are trying to sleep here!