From the collection of poems The Colonel's Songs from 1915
I'm tired, I'm tired at the factory,
I want to go home to the earthly nest,
to my hut at Blodstensmyren,
in the peace of the green hiding places.
I want to live on bread and water,
if I can only change shortly
all gas lights and alarms against the night
where the hours quietly flow.
I want to go home to the valley of Pajso,
to the grassy marsh at So,
where the forests are murky green
stand in a circle around mossy bog,
where perennial grass grows in steam
at sources that never their
and where plants weave in the earth
their roots silky.
I want to go home to the valley of Kango
where the heather is burning red
like a defiance in flaming flames
in front of the impending death of autumn -
where butterflies, colourfully happy
on floury wings soar
and heavy, singing bumblebees
in the swelling myllan dig.
I want to go home to the poor people
who sweat in the glow of summer,
who watches in bitter nights
in defence against cold and distress. -
I want to go where the clouds go heavy
under the sky where stars shine,
and where the obygdsfors sing
in time with the songs of mine.
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