This is the where poems of old meet Machine Translation and become poems anew. Modern art I shall call it. The poems are by well known Swedish poets, by statistical MT made into english ones hopefully with an added spark. Enjoy!
Note: This is not originally a Swedish poem, but the Swedish translation(1890) is very well known and treated like a national treasure much like the song "The Final Countdown" by Europe written by the accomplished Swedish lyricist Joey Tempest. The original version was written in 1849 by Alfred Tennyson.
New Year's Clock Ring, watch, ring in the grim New Year's Eve against space norrskenssky soil and snow; the old add years to die ... KNELL over land and water!
Ring in the new and ring out the old in the first, PALPITATING minutes. Call lying power from the world's borders out, and ring of truth to us as grope.
Call our thoughts out of mourning custody, and call SOLACE to wounded bosom. Ring out the hatred between the rich and arm and call for reconciliation in the Earth's family.
Ring out what doomed counting his days and ancient shaping split and strife. Call a noble, a higher life with better objectives, more pure laws.
Ring out the concerns, grief and suffering, and call the frozen time re-warm. Call out to silence the poem street alarm, but call sångarhjärtan create flames.
Call it pride, which only counts anor, OVERWORK lets GUILE, envy ambush. Ring in the right of triumfens strata, and call the victory of humanity flags.
Ring, watch, ring ... and century violate Vike; the day, the genus in strength yesterday! Ring out, ring out the thousand years of war, ring in the tusenåra peace kingdom!
Ring in the time when the spirits released out of selfish public sammansnörda band. Ring dark shadows away from all countries; call him in, the bidande Messiah.
Machine Song (Orlodoffa doschkoff orlodoffa doschkoff:) it is the machine -- me.
Bars and wheels and nitnaglar screws and nuts conveyor belting (doschkoff) -- many men have made me slag and polishing and hammering and file fine, I am fine (orlo) shiny singing resounding shocking floors and ceilings. (No smoking! Spit is not on the floor! Untidy reserved! Drink not from the carafe! Access is denied! W.C. Office.) Did you see the man who came yesterday? -- he krälar today on crutches, and the girl who hum today becomes tomorrow rännstensavfall, and the child as the indulgences are they and are they -- orlodoffa doschkoff -- my food.
(Orlodoffa doschkoff orlo - orlo - orlo:) Oil and oil (ha - so I laugh!) human sweat and oil and blood (he - so I ryter!) The muscles LANGUISH. (hi - so I grins!) the skin stained yellow. The neck is bent (ha - so I sigh!) fired at the end (ho - so I rushing!) re ready (away)
Unfamiliar She stood at stättan with sommarhättan on the tan neck, the dashing jäntan. Against the bearded gärdsel she supported the arm, and healthy, fluff cheeks glödde the July heat and eager anticipation.
He came on the strategic among rice and debris with steps that sjöngo, the muntre boy. Warm light his eyes a second against the girl, but without a word or greeting, he away over the ridge and down to the mice.
But the girl threw one glance, which pushed sharp among thickets, where he was missing. "Order like deep in the wilderness, your stupid boy! You have neither a hönas courage or objective in your mouth. "
Santa Midvinternattens cold weather is tough, the stars sparkle and gleam. All sleep in the secluded courtyard deep in the midnight hour. Moon hike its tacit ban, snow white lights on pine and spruce, snow white lights on the ceilings. Only the land is awake.
It says so gray when ladgårdsdörr, gray against the white run, look, as many winters before, up to Moon's disc, looking towards the woods, where spruce and pine draws on the farm his shadowy wall, chews, but not the learning Bata, of a strange conundrum.
For his hand through the beard and hair, shakes head and bonnet --- »No, the mystery is too difficult, no, I guess not this "--- strikes, which he Plage, shortly slika ask minds, can be arranged and tweaking, going to go about their job.
Navigate to visthus and redskapshus, aware of all the locks --- cows dream at the Moon Light Summer dreams in the booths; forgetful of the harness and whipped and empty Podium in the house also has a dream: krubban he leans over filled with fragrant clover; ---
Navigate to the fence for lamb and sheep; look, how they sleep in there; go to the hens, which are cockerel proud at their highest perch; Karo in the dog bots straw feel good, wake up and waves his tail small, Karo's Santa know, they are good friends.
Santa creeping up finally to see husbondfolket the ladies, long and well, he noticed that the keep his diligence in glory; children's combs his late on toes approach to see the cute little, no one shall be the oppression: it is his greatest happiness.
So he has seen them, father and son, clean through many leads slumber as a child, but from where coming to the well-hit Dutch? Genus followed the race soon, flourished, aging, went --- but where? Riddler, which allows non - guess, came as re!
Santa will walk to the barn loft: where he live and drew would be high on the höets fragrance, close at swallow nest; now well swallow habitation empty, but the spring with leaves and flowers she will probably back; Following his näpna wife.
Then she always chirp about event a journey of memory, Nevertheless, nothing about the riddle, which move the plot in mind. Through a slot in the barn wall lit moon on the old man beard, stripe on the beard shiny, Santa chews and thinking.
Quiet is the forest and Nejden all, life out there is frozen, only from the remote proper case Slowly höres quite noise. Santa is listening and, half in a dream; believe themselves to hear tomorrow's power, wonder, whither it be a danger, wonder, was the source may be.
Midvinternattens cold weather is tough, the stars sparkle and gleam. All sleep in the secluded courtyard good next morning hour. Luna lowers its tacit ban, snow white lights on pine and spruce, snow white lights on the ceilings. Only the land is awake.
There was dancing away in the road There was dancing away in the road on Saturday night through the surroundings was the song of the game and happiness and laughter, it was tjoh! there was hope! it was hey! Nils Utterman, token and spelmansfanten, He sat with his bälgspel at the road edge, for dudeli! dudeli! you!
There was Ball, the magnificent Take Girl, she is good-looking and nice, but have nothing in your pocket, she is gäcksam and skojsam and dashing. There was Kersti, the defiant, wandering, wild, there was Finn Reversing-Britta and Kajsa and Tilda and the snudiga Marja in the brook.
There was Petter in Toppsta and Gusten the hill, it is boys who bother to throw in the squad and vischa a girl in the sky. There was Flaxman on Torpet and Niklas in turn and recruit and Pistol Högvaltadrängen and Cold-Johan in Skräddarebyn.
And they had that burning tow in the body, and grasshoppers jumped Rejlandshoppen, and against the rocks of the small heels. And rockskörten flaxade, aprons threw; and flat flögo and skirts swung, and the music gnällde and gnall.
In the snåret of birch trees and chat and hazel it was whispering talk, it was tissel and tassel among the masking the shadows there, it was the race, it was game over logs and rocks, it was the cutter and caressing in the leafy branches - Do you want me, then you have me here!
Over the district was SCINTILLATION starry night specious, the low glimpse of light over the surge of water in the lövskogsbekransade lake, the fragrance came from Klövern on blooming dikes and from kådiga cones of spruces and pines, which shaded litter Arnes crest.
And a fox line into the hilarious song, and a horned owl screamed uhu! from Bryn Worn Brate, and they noticed, they heard it not. But uhu! hearing the echo of Getberget shout, and in response to Nils Otter's dudelidia! came the dudeli! dudeli! you!
Vierge moderne I am not a woman. I am a neuter. I am a child, a page and a bold decision, I am a laughing glimmer of a scharlakanssol ... I am a network for all glupska fish, I am a toast to all women's honor, I am a step towards chance and disaster, I am a leap in freedom and self ... I am the blood whisper in the man's ear, I am a soul chills, meat longing and denial, I am an entrance sign to the new paradise. I am a flame, candidates and dashing; I am a water, deep but hardy up to the knees, I am fire and water in the context of honest free conditions ...
I went SOLE But I walked alone in many of the mil where concerns about called me förglömde I then these many of the mil for a halvfjärdings road with you? I did not - will be my clumsy response, no, actually I did not. But a beautiful road I have not traveled than a halvfjärdings road with you.
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