PLACENTA
Detta oformliga, loberade organ,
som utstötes efter födelsen.
Varken mor eller barn, neutralt,
på samma sätt som det innersta tomrummet
inne i den riktiga sömnlöslheten
är en helt och hållet neutral plats.
Det finns alltid något
som är mellan de vanliga tillstånden,
varken det ena eller det andra.
Till detta Mellan
känner jag en skev vänskap,
en släktskap till och med.
Det har den verkliga världens
stora tomma, uppriktiga ansikte.
PLACENTA
This formless, lobated organ
that is expelled after birth.
Neither mother nor child, neutral,
in the same way the innermost void
within true insomnia
is a completely neutral place.
There always exists something
that is between usual states,
neither the one nor the other.
Towards this Between
I feel a wry friendship,
a kinship even.
It has the real world’s
large vacant, candid face.
It has been drawn to my attention that there already exists a fine translation of this poem by Christopher Middleton. You can find it here. I deliberately avoid looking at other translations before attempting my own. I am convinced that any great work of poetry/music is open to many different interpretations. As long as no mistakes of interpretation are involved, it is my conviction that it is enriching to see/listen to as many versions as possible.
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