Monday, 3 October 2016

Svante No. 5 Song


I stand here and gaze at the Swedish coast
and long for its mountains and skerries.
My heart is jumpy, it flutters almost,
wants to be on the first of the ferries
                      to banish all that pains me
                      let birchtree groves sustain me
                      where smiling girls endear...
                      but I am stuck right here
                                                   if not I’ll end up sea-sick.

It feels just like seeing the far promised land
all flowing with milk and with money,
where life the ragings of time can withstand
and where Bellman’s songs are like honey
                      where lingon sprigs assorted
                      in birchtree groves are sported
                      but I am stuck right here
                      a quayside overseer
                                                  if not I’ll end up sea-sick.

I stand in a country neurotic and small
where people are smiling and crazy.
The Swedes do a great deal we can’t do at all,
they’re so neutral and not ’cos they’re lazy
                      and their sound limbs displaying
                      in birchtree groves are playing
                      they’re brimful of ideas
                      while I just fade out here
                                                    if not I’ll end up sea-sick.

My ashes shall sail back to Sweden’s land
be scattered in every direction
so I’ll be transported from strand to strand
and maybe at last find perfection
                      where roots can thrive and flourish
                      in birchtree groves that nourish
                      but till that day is near
                      I guess I’m stuck right here
                                                   if not I’ll end up sea-sick.

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