Exercise: A weird one

[Ros]

Below is a poem in what I believe is Swedish. Assuming you don't read Swedish, have a go at translating this and seeing if the words you might be able to interpret inspire anything. It was given to me by someone who suggested there may be a seaside connection. I'm afraid I don't know the original author.


Bogserbåten är fräknig av rost. Vad gör den här så långt inne i landet?
Den är en tung, slocknad lampa i kyian.
Men träden har vilda färger. Signaler till andra stranden!
Som om några ville bli hämtade.

På väg hem ser jag bläcksvamparna skjuta upp genom gräsmattan.
De är de hjälpsökande fingrarna på en
som snyftat länge för sig själv i mörkret där nere.
Vi är jordens.

[BenJohnson]

Bogserbåten är fräknig av rost. Vad gör den här så långt inne i landet?
A beacon is rocking in the wind. Who shows us safe passage from the land?
Den är en tung, slocknad lampa i kyian.
These whose tongues are slackened in lamplight.
Men träden har vilda färger. Signaler till andra stranden!
Men trading with the life of strangers. Signalling until we are stranded!
Som om några ville bli hämtade.
Their village is blackened by their hearts.


På väg hem ser jag bläcksvamparna skjuta upp genom gräsmattan.
Our bodies vanish beneath the grasses matting the swamp lands
De är de hjälpsökande fingrarna på en
som snyftat länge för sig själv i mörkret där nere.
While our goods head for the market,
we embark on a new voyage.
Vi är jordens.
Via the gardens.


I don't read Swedish

[Ros]

That's very good, Ben! Just the sort of thing I was anticipating. I particularly liked 'Men trading with the life of strangers.' Sometimes a line from exercises like this can spark another poem.

[k-j]

Another brilliant exercise; cheers Ros. Great interpretation from Ben, too. Much better than this:


Both boats are freckled with rust. What are they doing so close to the land?
They are as tongues, slackened in the dark.
Traders have wild wares. Signal to all the beaches!
Some of them will be homely.

On the way home, I see black swamp-plants shoot up through the marram grass.
It is the helping fingers within one,
sniffing and snuffling in the murk down there.
We are the earth.

[Mr. Madeleine]

I don't speak Swedish, and I've got no idea what it is about. I might try an actual translation later. In the meanwhile, my zero knowledge of Swedish didn't prevent me from having fun with this Here it goes:


Bogs, er…bathe in! (aargh!) Fro(c)ks niched; AV roast. Vlad & Igor hashed, inert. Landed?
Dan’s (aargh!) in dung, a slow knacker Lep[re]chaun.
Men trends: hard, vile, daff; archers. Signal her until Andrea is strangled!
Summon negro vaudevilles; a blitz of ham, and lemonade.

Pa vogues; hens search (aargh!) black v(tr)amp ire masks. Junta. Up! Gnomes on grass; mutt-on.
Dear, the jap’s socks and the fingers of Anna = pain.
Some sniff fat & long for cigs; salvation = morgu(e) ter n al.
Vicar Jordan.

[Yesterday]

ohh! what fun
[b]
Bogserbåten är fräknig av rost. Vad gör den här så långt inne i landet?[/b]
Bogans are frustrationg my sleep. Can they not keep their long hair foolishness?
[b]Den är en tung, slocknad lampa i kyian.[/b]
They wear jeans, too tight and faded.
[b]Men träden har vilda färger. Signaler till andra stranden![/b]
The men pull the middle finger. Signaling the Attack!
[b]Som om några ville bli hämtade.[/b]
On the innocent wealthy home-bodies.
[b]
På väg hem ser jag bläcksvamparna skjuta upp genom gräsmattan.[/b]
‘Call up the Officers, badged, black-suited, shaven heads, grey-eyed.
[b]De är de hjälpsökande fingrarna på en[/b]
Throw the haphazard finger pulling
[b]som snyftat länge för sig själv i mörkret där nere.[/b]
Spots in cells to laungish for six months or more’
[b]Vi är jordens.[/b]
I should yell.

******

Please don't take this as my opinion, but 'Bogserbåten' meant 'bogan' to me... and so it progressed.

[Ros]

Mr M, yesterday, excellent! I'm glad you had fun with this.

Ros

[Arian]

Yesterday - I enjoyed your take, very amusing.
peter