Det lyser en stjerne
på himmelen et sted,
som lyser for deg,
hver gang den titter ned.
Er det ikke forundelig,
hvor vakkert alt er?
Å føle seg elsket,
jeg vil bare være her.
Knug min hånd,
kyss mitt skinn.
Gi meg en lovnad,
så skal jeg alltid være din.
Gå mot øyeblikket,
grip fatt om drømmen.
Smil mot verden,
våg å gå mot strømmen.
Så løfter jeg meg opp,
helt opp av stolen.
Det er en mektig følelse
å leve under solen.
(2009)
Beautiful,
stuck in our throats.
Chasing us everywhere we go.
Hunts us.
Stuck on us,
like glue.
Like a cockroach,
everlasting,
almost.
We try to escape,
away from the horrifying beautiful.
A concept,
made for harassment.
Like a shadow.
Used in wrong terms.
Has set a standard for our poor souls,
desperately the unsureness fill our veins.
Poisoning the lost souls of tomorrow.
A lovely word,
used wrong.
The sense of true beauty never reaches the screen.
Hidden from the outside world,
while we try to embrace the false dignity.
The false mentality sets a double standard,
laughs at us right in the face.
Thinking we’re smart,
being dumb.
It can’t be characterised,
or set in motion.
There’s no description,
no recipe.
Only man-made.
A fantasy.
A dream that never comes true.
Only one correct answer;
the beauty is within,
deeper,
it reaches beneath the eye,
it casts only a glimpse in the mirror of our souls.
Don’t be beguiled by that smooth tongue.
Lips which dare not to say those unspoken words.
Where human beings are for trade.
Never say die.
I shall never forget my words,
never.
I need, and shall not worry.
I never worry about small details.
It is the end,
isn’t it?
What’s been expected,
but never wanted.
I came with my confession.
I couldn’t take the palpitations.
With this love digression
I admit you got my heart in possession.
I couldn’t bear my heart oppression.
I wouldn’t hide my feelings behind ornamentations.
My soul is still a little marked by the perforation.
My mind still need the persuasion.
I will never forget that occasion
of my little orientation.
That oration
indicated my feelings of strong evasion.
(2004)
Lost for words.
Because pityness seems so weak,
yet so strong.
Pity.
Don’t say it.
It seems to offend me more than anything else.
I just say those words
for understanding.
Never for pity.
Just lay it before me.
The weakness I once bore,
which tears my heart.
I get offended more from this ugliness,
never of the understanding.
I would rather have you leave me alone.
It’s cruel.
Pity.
As in sin.
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