Swedish Poetry 1
An Angel Visits Me Every Night An angel visits me
every night He tears me out of my bed of agony to an agony of joy becoming a joyful agony larger than the one I had – – How did you get inside this cell? – I bribed the watchman my friends are standing guard out there … – So that night I received a friend who was lonely His clothes were a traveler’s who had traveled far and I, a prince’s daughter knows what’s appropriate: A bath! I turned my eyes into a bath Clean clothes! I gave him my eyesight Something to drink! I turned my blood into a drink To eat! He wasn’t satisfied with anything less than my heart He left me hastily, without thanks, more lonely than ever He didn’t tell me his name but I knew it because he knew mine! It is, in foreign tounge: I am the one who returns In his language my name is: I am she who waits Gunnar Ekelöf, from Vägvisare till underjorden (Guide to the Underworld), 1967 Translated by Malena Mörling and Jonas Ellerström 11 SWEDISH POETRY