A poem from Dan Andersson's collection of poems Black Ballads, published in 1917.
I have dreamed I would sing what I feel,
how I hate, how I love, how I curse, how I pray,
how madly I flee from my friends,
and in the darkness to the unknown pray.
I have dreamed that I would sing a song,
of all the horrors of the souls, all the lights of the heavens,
when all the world I see is dancing and swaying
and tremble in foolish intoxication.
I have dreamed that when all the stars shine,
over wilderness whispering, what in solitude happened,
that all the winds around the tarlands blow,
would teach me to stifle what I had known.
I have dreamed that a small, small woman,
would anesthetize me with songs, would caress me with laughter,
and when everything I've built has to burn,
would follow me in the night of the baptism of fire.
I've been thinking that all the hunting years,
who have killed what I loved, who have stolen what I had
would teach me a song about spring,
who has lived with me and blinded me and left.
I have thought that all the storms that raged,
in my soul would blend into a mad song.
That there I stumbled over hell and high water,
I would learn its songs once.
But look at my sundial towards dinner progressing,
and never have I sung what my heart has prayed!
Shall I sing first in the times of the shadow of death,
when the endless darkness I have seen?
Shall I live until I learn to forge
all roses, all horrors to a living ked,
that shall shake like a rush and glide
like a ray of light in the dead of night?
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