I can’t think of a better way to start a blog than with some gloomy Swedish poetry.
Jag har skrivit en inledning till vad jag skulle ha sagt
men jag har strukit den – Dock önskar jag
att innan mörkret slår samman over mig
det sista som syns av mig
skall vara en knuten näve bland näckrosor
och det sista som hörs ett ord av bubblor
från botten.
I know it requires a translation, but you can get some of the words: inledning; an introduction, mörkret; murk or the darkness, bubblor; yes, bubbles. It’s just wonderful how languages carry the imprint of their ancestors in this way. The poem itself is about yes, you guessed it, death.
Next time I come back here I’ll bring the translation, too. That would be less irritating, would it not.
Undiagnosis 