From the collection of poems Kolvaktarens visor
To be a bald man, a prophet, and to be forced to live on the street,
and never know when your battle will end,
...it's fighting with Satan himself...
and heaven knows how long you can stand it.
There will be blood and tears, though,
be fistfights tonight and death tomorrow day,
...but it must never turn to sorrow and women's tears...
but I am no child and no woman.
And this is what I call fishing all night
and never get paid a single penny,
to travel without light on big, dark waters,
but never, never see the slightest glimpse of land.
But one day my cold body will be found among the dead,
...then it was my reward to lie there peacefully...
then I am a man who has fought out my fate,
I guess it's my right to be who I am.
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