Homoerotic poetry

-


Kunde jag följa dig
Kunde jag följa dig långt bort,
längre än allt du vet,
ut i de yttersta rymdernas
världsensamhet,
där Vintergatan rullar
ett bjärt dött skum
och där du söker ett fäste
i hisnande rum.

Jag vet: det går inte.

Men när du stiger huttrande
blind ur ditt dopm
tvärsigenom rymden
skall jag höra ditt rop,
vara dig ny värme,
vara dig ny famn,
vara dig när i en annan värld
bland ting med ofött namn.

* * *
If I could follow you far away
further off than all you knew
out to the uttermost regions
the world's solitude
where Wintergate* is rolling
its brash, dead trace
and you're looking for a foothold
in overwhelming space

I know - it can't happen.

But when you stagger shivering
blindly baptised
then right across the universe
I will hear your cry
and be your new warmth
and be your new arms
be near you in a different world
of things with unborn names

Translated by Michael Peverett

-


ya comprendo la verdad

estalla en mis deseos

y mis desdichas
en mis desencuentros
en mis desequilibrios
en mis delirios

ya comprendo la verdad

ahora
a buscar la vida

-


WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d;
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy;
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light,
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy;
O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day my food nourish’d me more—and the beautiful day pass’d well,
And the next came with equal joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend;
And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.