My Poodle and I
Translation from the CD "VISITKORT"
My poodle and I
You´ll see us walking on by
as we talk about all
the values we share
and the small stuff
that we hold dear
My poodle and I
have an unusual tie
My poodle´s OK
She agrees with my way
That so much of it all
has no value at all
But the small stuff
is dear to us both
My poodle´s OK
she ´s thinking my way
And air and greenery
is stuff that we like
Wishes and hopes
we bring along on our hike
My poodle and I
My poodle and I
We´re sharing the time
´tween we come and we go
Cause that´s all we know
Every year,
seven poodle-years flow
My poodle and I
Go on intertwined
And games and hugs
We like when we find
Loneliness has never
crossed our minds
My poodle and I
Unlucky Love
Translation from the CD "VISITKORT"
Unlucky in love
But luckily with you
Wanting must do
When all I ever wanted for was you
We shouldn´t be apart
Cause you´re so smart
and I am aimless
A miracle is all I need
to show my love is stainless
as a knife
and harder than life
Noone else will do for me
I´m not the one they´re choosing
Still you deserve all my desire
and this grip I´m never ever losing
Never ever losing
Unlucky love
But luckily for you
Words from above
Keep telling me my dream may well come true
I´m such a silly fool
but as a rule I´m being hopeful
We can´t let all this hope simply elope
it would be awful
and a shame
The Unlucky game
The Shawl
Translation from the CD "VISITKORT"
This is a true tale from a Stockholm bus:
My friend in usual Monday grayish mood
No not the best of days, to say the least
But then again you must endure and wrap
yourself in sparks and larks, her daughter´s Pa-
lestinian shawl, a black and pink one, like
all teenies wear, if you yourself feel gray
then borrow feathers from another bird!
But anyway, here comes this man with wife
behind, he passes by and turns around
and pukes out loud for all to hear, how vile!
That shawl must be the ugliest on earth!
In such a situation, what to do?
In half a second it will be too late
to give some mouth, but dignity, at least,
you must retain and he shall not escape
or get away with this along with wife
pretending nought to see and nought to hear
Now turn your heads around, the pair of you,
thought Anna, for that is her real name,
my friend who was exposed to such a pig.
She stares for minutes at him and his wife,
they´re seemingly of upper middle class,
well mannered, church of Sweden, with exams
from upper middle colleges, consul-
tants, tenants, two point eighteen kids,
they know exactly what is proper, what
is out of order between people, but
perhaps their day was also bad, their son
had got himself expelled, became a ter-
rorist, set fire to headmaster´s wig...
Well then you may just understand this man
to be uncomfortable seeing a shawl
of Palestinian fashion and the one
who wears it has to carry all the blame
be smeared in puke and xenophobia
There always is an explanation, now
she softly looks again, feeling like Je-
sus, almost, carrying this pair´s suffering
upon herself, (as if she didn´t have
enough of it) But now he cannot stand
the sight of Anna´s mild and querying eyes
trying to share a thought with these poor two.
His features crack, distort, his evil child
within appears, he shrinks, becomes the age of two
sticks out his tongue and sneers a Boo!
About Florrie
Florrie
Florrie strokes the flowery setee,
firmly, smoothing out non-existent creases,
then gently, thinking: These people aren´t half well off,
cretonne like this sets you back hundreds!
She tugs at the curtains,
opening them and pulling them again.
-Mine were so heavy, not the fabric, mind,
but heavy to pull, had to ask the girl for help.
Who are they? Entertaining constantly,
reading, singing.
Wine and cheese!
Still I recognise... nearly recognise...
like a nightmare it is, at home, not at home,
wandering through familiar rooms
but closely looking so unfamiliar
and where´s the family, by the way -
No children?
Shan´t complain, though, used to be a lot worse,
will never forgive the miserable frozen lot,
wimps weary of the draught,
sacrificed their view, couldn´t be bothered
about ships sailing on rooftops
hid the finest window,
looked into a cheap reproduction instead.
Lovely thick carpet on the stairs,
piano in the study, quite so,
but what is this?
Florrie opens a cabinet door,
a typewriter? Half a typewriter,
cords and leads, a telephone of some sort?
This is a nightmare, must stay a little longer
until I can leave these people to whatever they´re up to.
I will tolerate only good spirits, you hear?
The best butter, fresh eggs,
long lasting intentions, no giving up,
I´m telling you - in my house
every single one survived!
For how long may you have your poems?
Due to a window-cleaning agenda
Due to a window-cleaning agenda,
the turntable was laid with music,
at which great sadness welled forth and
tear fluid stood in the corner, but
never before had windows been
cleaned in silence so perseverance
was decided upon and perhaps
this was a needed sadness, a
lump in the throat spoke purely
from the soul: a new outlook must
see cleanliness may be heard,
listen clarity will succeed, and
now the picture split up in two:
women by their windows
a shared sadness multiplied
again and again like the grain of
rice on square one doubles up to
an uncountable pile on the chess board
a mirror hall of unhappy women
with aprons and window scrapers,
a high-pitched mosaic of despair,
a clustre narrowing into a single note,
loud and clear, in shattering glass -
We all want other lives to live!
I want to get myself a herbarium
I want to leave this council house
I want to become a sculptress
I want to save the Baltic sea
I want a spot in the middle,
to find a centre, to know if there is
such a place and what one would
do once you are there, I want
to surprise with my knowledge, yes
even in a biblical sense, who
would have expected that out of
this virginal window-cleaning sonority
I want a last to stick with
I want a child to be with
I want a husband and flowers
to press into my poetry book
All these wills will be heard out
in the name of Righteousness
and to deviate from the Narrow Path
will do good for Mankind, soon
there was clarity and silence
finally supplanted the eye-fluid
a heart beat under the apron and
surprised a needy sadness from inside
The Spilling of Time
The spilling of time.
The overflow of waiting.
The eye of history
blinded as we bleed.
The fluid, a universal constant.
The pounding of expectation,
The increase of pressure.
The longing for sigh of relief
for turning point
to make time spill some more.
But slowly as with asthma
seeps a disappointed beam -
causing us to wonder:
What was the big occasion?
Rain from the moon?
Someone is picking up
fireworks past their best before,
lost love, cast iron beds, B 52s,
The banging and the bombing,
those were times!
When time was kept in delicate jars
and ran in finest beams
Now we run for our lives
carrying goblets, jugs
collecting time, winning time,
emaciated by lack of time.
Come spill a moment
Bring a jug or two
Between us there is overflow
Same as in old times.
The Shawl
This is a true tale from a Stockholm bus:
My friend in usual Monday grayish mood
No not the best of days, to say the least
But then again you must endure and wrap
yourself in sparks and larks, her daughter´s Pa-
lestinian shawl, a black and pink one, like
all teenies wear, if you yourself feel gray
then borrow feathers from another bird!
But anyway, here comes this man with wife
behind, he passes by and turns around
and pukes out loud for all to hear, how vile!
That shawl must be the ugliest on earth!
In such a situation, what to do?
In half a second it will be too late
to give some mouth, but dignity, at least,
you must retain and he shall not escape
or get away with this along with wife
pretending nought to see and nought to hear
Now turn your heads around, the pair of you,
thought Anna, for that is her real name,
my friend who was exposed to such a pig.
She stares for minutes at him and his wife,
they´re seemingly of upper middle class,
well mannered, church of Sweden, with exams
from upper middle colleges, consul-
tants, tenants, two point eighteen kids,
they know exactly what is proper, what
is out of order between people, but
perhaps their day was also bad, their son
had got himself expelled, became a ter-
rorist, set fire to headmaster´s wig...
Well then you may just understand this man
to be uncomfortable seeing a shawl
of Palestinian fashion and the one
who wears it has to carry all the blame
be smeared in puke and xenophobia
There always is an explanation, now
she softly looks again, feeling like Je-
sus, almost, carrying this pair´s suffering
upon herself, (as if she didn´t have
enough of it) But now he cannot stand
the sight of Anna´s mild and querying eyes
trying to share a thought with these poor two.
His features crack, distort, his evil child
within appears, he shrinks, becomes the age of two
sticks out his tongue and sneers a Boo!
Beret
Conditions for wearing beret:
Warm ears and chilly crown.
No perspiration in arm pit where baguette goes.
Under other arm where is carried
flattened director´s chair,
sweat may appear.
But feet, flat enough for espadrillos.
Talent for side-of-mouth whistling.
A slight bow-leggedness, a swaying gait.
Big hands, hairy fingers.
Curiosity, awareness, ability for switft conclusions.
Sense of smelling. Actually everything that enables us
the very day we find a beret in a drawer,
without effort figure out who previously
has been wearing this beret.
A Midsummer Night´s Dream
The Common Eider Ladies choir
”Sonorous Eiderettes”
are practising in S:t John´s night
A champagne-intoxicated glockenspiel ostinato
in topmost descant
rises over the archipelago
Eagerness and excitement, gaiety and exaltation
The drakes silently suck
their sea-foam pipes on far out islets
Ducklings nibble at mother´s rear end feather
Shush, mommy is singing -
Soon enough we will become pillows
Reposing under other creatures´ dreams