Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Idag, igjen: På dansk og ....

... på romantisk. For de som måtte mene at hvalper i underbuksen ikke gir et tilstrekkelig bilde på alle sider ved menneskelig kjærlighet. Og for de av oss som liker dansk.


Sommernatt


Tilsidst blev vi så stille,
at øjeblikket stod,
som skåret ud af natten,
vi læned os imod.

.

Et fyrtårns fine pensel
henover havet gled,
og milned fjerne bølgers
havøde ensomhed.

.

Vor kærlighed lå åben
og nyfødt, som et svar
på blæstens sagte kalden,
der toned øm og klar –

.

men vi var dødelige,
og øjeblikket svandt.
Nu ligger det og lyser
som sten i strandens kant.

Tove Ditlevsen (Kvindesind, 1955)


Takk til Wiking i Underskog for referansen. Om en viking greier å se forbi sentimentaliteten her ... så gjør jeg det også.

Also today: Ode to No Oomph

Adrian Mitchell also wrote this. (But read below post first.) Presumably when he was a bit older.

A Dog Called Elderly

And now I have a dog called Elderly
And all he ever wants to do
Is now and then be let out for a piss
But spend the rest of his lifetime
Sleeping on my lap in front of the fire

Today: Pubescent Poems

I read this charming poem yesterday, by Adrian Mitchell. Puppies...

A Puppy Called Puberty

It was like keeping a puppy in your underpants
A secret puppy you weren't allowed to show to anyone
Not even your best friend or your worst enemy

You wanted to pat him stroke him cuddle him
All the time but you weren't supposed to touch him

He only slept for five minutes at a time
Then he'd suddenly perk up his head
In the middle of school medical inspection
And always on bus rides

So you had to climb down from the upper deck
All bent double to smuggle the puppy off the bus
Without the buxom conductress spotting
Your wicked and ticketless stowaway.

Jumping up, wet-nosed, eagerly wagging -
He only stopped being a nuisance
When you were alone together
Pretending to be doing your homework
But really gazing at each other
Through hot and hazy daydreams

Of those beautiful schoolgirls on the bus
With kittens bouncing in their sweaters.

- Adrian Mitchell