Here is a recent poem called "Deep in Europe."
So it's not about Sweden at all.
It was actually written in Strasbourg.
"Deep in Europe."
"I, a dark hull floating between two lock gates,
rest in the hotel bed while the city around me awakens.
The silent clamor and the gray light
stream in, and raise me slowly to the next level, the morning.
Overheard horizon, they want to say something, the dead.
They smoke but don't eat.
They don't breathe, but they keep their voice.
I'll be hurrying through the streets as one of them.
The blackened cathedral, heavy as a moon,
causes ebb and flow."
I read that in Swedish too.
Djupt i Europa
Jag mörka skrov flytande mellan två slussportar vilar i sängen på hotellet medan staden omkring vaknar.
Det tysta larmet och grå ljuset strömmar in och lyfter mig sakta till nästa nivå: morgonen.
Avlyssnad horisont. De vill säga något, de döda.
De röker men äter inte, de andas inte men har rösten kvar.
Jag kommer att skynda genom gatorna som en av dem.
Den svartnade katedralen, tung som en måne, gör ebb och flod.