Fingerprints and fibers,
Accumulated talk,
Whispers in the corners,
Bodies demarcated in chalk
On the marble courtroom stairs.
His misery became a pall.
With mourning signs in splattered pairs,
Red flowers on the wall.

All that he had left behind was grief
And powerless rage,
A Tansu chest in high relief,
A coiled brass clock fatigued with age.

Retreating to a white house in Simrishamn,
He’d walk his dog along the shore,
Find sterile clues amongst the sands,
And travel a ferry between two lands.

And now: An experiment! Blame Google Translate for this weird (?) Swedish translation: Please tell me if this is a bad translation!

Fingeravtryck och fibrer,
Ackumulerat samtal,
Viskar i hörnen,
Kroppar avgränsad i krita
På marmor rättssal trappor.
Hans elände blev en pall.
Med sorgsignaler i splatterade par,
Röda blommor på väggen.

Allt som han hade lämnat var sorg
Och maktlös raseri,
En Tansu bröst i hög lättnad,
En spolad mässingsklocka utmanad med åldern.

Att återvända till ett vitt hus i Simrishamn,
Han skulle gå sin hund längs stranden,
Hitta sterila ledtrådar bland sandarna,

Brown jacket, chase it up the rocks.
Afraid to slip on the moss and fly without wings down the side.
Or is it lichen?
There's the sea, or bay or ocean.
It's salty, that's certain from the taste of the air.
Back down the hill through wet trees.
Everything is wet.
It's misting ice.
And radiating grey.
Chase the jacket, don't get lost.
Chase the
Wet haird and feeling wild, thoughts are finally scattered
and it feels like we're alive.

I wanted you to be like me.

You wanted me to be you.

It worked for awhile.

But we found our way back..

To the ones we actually are.

That's when it crashed.

Our worlds collided.

It didn't match.

We grew apart again.

But for a brief moment, we were something.

We were glorious.

I love John, she said, euphemising me to play dead,
I said sure but inside my head I started picturing him in my bed.

Outside the filthiest room I sneakattacked and started to consume,
our lips began to fume and his smile erased the gloom.

Skipped the bread for some red wine, at least it wasnt moonshine,
couldnt walk any further on the line since it felt too ******* fine.

I knew it would be trouble as soon as I got stung by his stubble,
so we formed a brown and grey bubble, made the population double.

I find myself hiding, from all the decorous chiding,
we're foolishly sliding, in our bubble of bliss we're confiding.

Slippin by the sleeping moose, watch the penguins as they snooze,
No need to even zip the ***** since he's the drug I choose to use.

Inhale the scent of his collarbone, entering my safety zone,
watch him while he's getting ******, the smell of ****'s like his cologne.

Catching the sunrise, never knew that it could comprise such a beauty of that size,
but seein' it through his reddish eyes, makes me wanna demise the kingdom down between my thighs,
just give it away to this guy so I can keep on getting surprised by the Castlewood morning skies.

Cups of coffee and plates with sugar crumbs
from pastry warm with cinnamon and cardamom,
and books overturned on antique tables
with scruff marks and scratches, loved, well-used,
(and me, in the middle of it all, listening to the
heartbeat of this country and its sincerity,
learning wisdom through small things).
He is a six foot springtide of caffeine and literature,
effervescent with sincerity and kindness and warmth.
I smile at him over the rim of my cup, and
suddenly I am swept up and moving with
his current, in love with him and a summer
spent scribbling into casebound notebooks
and with my hair flying in the wind that rustles
the trees around us, and with his lips on my neck.
Wild roses on brick walls and wooden window frames,
and the lavender growing on the curb all smile,
content to witness summer love bloom like
all things tend to do, in this season and this place.
I let him explain to me the stars in nights that
never seem to really begin but last forever;
he teaches me in not-quite darkness what
they mean, and I tell him under fairy-lights
how small I feel in the multitude of this universe.
He nods solemnly and I feel his breath in my hair,
holding me on this earth as he shows me galaxies.

- lund. cs.