#dan andersson

En noches de vigilia sofocado, cuando el recuerdo aguijonea inclemente, suplico por las noches del pasado que trocaran mi sangre en vino ardiente; por una noche en el florido prado de los anhelos, ¡una solamente!, de ígneo verdor selvático colmado, lecho de musgo en piedra reluciente. Detrás las églogas se alzan hasta el cielo. No me ve nadie y con nadie me cruzo. En otra época el sol fue mi…

I will follow through the valleys in autumn's high night,

and in the smoke of a hundred charcoal pits I will sing as if possessed.

And when the night surges pitch-black over the starflower's foam,

my basses will call from deep within the rooms of the human soul.

I sena tiders skymning vi hitta icke mer - ty det är djup natt och vi ha intet ljus - vår mördarblick ser stirrande mot jorden ner, vi döda våra vänners barn och bränna andras hus.

För oss finns ingen stjärna och ingen himmel blå - och allt är mörk natt och vi ha intet ljus - och blodets röda rosor de växa var vi gå och dödens ångest flämtar i tunga skogars sus:

"Vart mänskor gå - och varför - kan aldrig redas ut, ty det är nattens gåta, och den har intet ljus. I mörker födas, döda de, och dödas där till slut, och det står skrivet klibbigt rött på alla vägars grus."

This is gonna be from the 3rd episode of the 2nd season onward because that's where I'm at in the show rn.

Smol recap of episode 2 tho (just to give you an idea of what this is gonna be like😂)

Eric: Smells like reindeer juice

Me:

Dan Andersson (April 6, 1888 - 1920) was a Swedish poet, who wrote about sailors, emigrants and working folk in general. He also set some of his poems to music, and they’ve been continuously recorded by Swedish and Scandinavian musicians for more than 100 years. Songs like “Jungman Jansson” have been given treatments in pop, jazz, folk and rock settings...

Andersson unfortunately died quite young. He had taken a hotel room in Stockholm while visiting for a job interview with a major newspaper. However the hotel had just sprayed for bedbugs, using Hydrogen Cyanide, and had neglected to air out the room properly afterwards. Andersson and one other guest were found dead in their beds the next day...

Here is a lovely poem of his about spring, written in 1920: