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    SLOTH

       

    THE ACCUSER 
    To you first, you who believe you are innocent,
    you slothful ones!
    A heavy burden binds you to yourselves,
    heavier than coarse bread and heavier than the earth can
    manage.
    On you the guilt for all the evil that was not prevented!
    On you the guilt for all the good that was not done!
    A heavy burden! Because of you
    the world is going under.
                   CHORUS 
    By our own hearts we were forsaken.
    By their steep walls is our bed for the night.
    We are those doomed by life to a living death,
    thirsting in trance for the springs' water bright.
    Our arms we twine hard around our knees,
    stilled by tension and not by repose.
    Above the wall's crest float the fresh trees.
    Beneath their roots we hear the springs ooze. 
    There are our lives. There are our souls.
    You who come punishing, what will you do to deliver us?
    If you know the way in, then all will be well.
    But if we go away from the springs, the desert storm will
    shrivel us.
    Bring no pitchers to those hot, dry mouths!
    Never will we raise our hands for action,
    never - until we drink from the innermost wells.
    By our hearts' walls shall await transformation.                
                   SOLO 
    You cry out. Within me echoes
    an answer faint.
    but deep in all my valleys
    abhorrence remains.
    Someone there is, one solitary
    out of all my folk,
    willing to serve you, crier,
    to interpret, support. 
    But you see, I fear attack
    in the soul's world,
    the stupidity of the strong
    who conquer by the sword.
    Let my manifoldness
    slowly heal away,
    then one day perhaps each drop of blood
    may answer your cry.
    How inconquerable would he be
    in self-clear belief,
    who could grow into one
    in ripening peace.
    How powerless from his living skin
    would the day's dust fall.
    How mighty in silence he would glide
    from the great noise of it all.
                        CHORALE 
    All that is split and scattered
    yearns to be healed and made better
    and asks for faithfulness yet.
    You live in our midst, around us.
    Yea, though our doubting bound us,
    Lord, you were hidden in it.


    Translated into English by David McDuff in "Karin Boye: Complete poems".

    Swedish original



    Copyright © 2005:
    Translation from Swedish into English: David McDuff

    Published with the permission of:
    David McDuff, translation.
    May and Hans Mehlin, Layout.

    For more information, please visit the website of David McDuff and his own pages with the translations.

     
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