The smell of January.

My head is full of poetry those days. I wake up with random poems in my head and I go to sleep similar… and sometimes I have to merge them and it suddenly all makes sense. Enjoy.

Jeg gikk ut av døra og det var
januar
og det luktet gravlykt.
Samma lukt da i november,
påkledd i nye sko og kåper,
gikk vi for å pynte graver og be.

Hva ba vi om?
At gravet er forhåpentligvis tomt?
Så de ikke ligger der fortsatt og venter,
og venter?

Jeg hadde en drøm,
og det var ikke pen drøm, de bare fortalte meg at:
Vi er som fly,
vi vil fly sammen,
men vi kan ikke lande på samme plass.

*** translation ***

I went out of the door and it was
January
and it smelled like grave lights.
The same smell when in November,
dressed in new shoes and coats,
we went to decorate graves and pray.

What did we pray for?
That the grave is hopefully empty?
So they don’t lay still and wait,
and wait?

I had a dream,
and it wasn’t a nice dream, they just told me:
We are like planes,
We want to fly together,
but we can’t land in the same place.

***

Keep in mind that the translation always slightly differs from the original (which I both wrote myself) and the original always bears the feelings and atmosphere of the poem. Anyway, have a nice week everyone!

Author: againorway

a dreamer trying to make a living in Norway

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