Missing Sweden

"Swedish Reflections, from Beowulf to Bergman" was published in 2003, when I was living in Stockholm. I was browsing through it again just now, and came across a poem of Eva Strom which I translated for the anthology. It's called "The Outer Hebrides". It struck a chord then and it still does. Why is it we always long to be somewhere else- in Sweden or the Outer Hebrides if in Corfu; in Corfu if we're in the Outer Hebrides; in Sydney if we're in London? Here's an excerpt:

"If it's the case that you long for the Outer Hebrides

Or somewhere else where you have the sea in front of you

And Europe behind you...

if it's the case that you sense inside you the end is coming

like a crack, or an idea emerging

if it's the case that you long to be changed

while you travel

just as unripe fruit is changed as it travels

in the cargo-hold, over the ocean, beneath the Southern Cross,

a hull's-width away from the water...

if that's the case and there's no other option-

if that's how it is-

you've already turned off the lights in the house:

you're on your way."



Karin Strom: Video - Darling

Hon som lskade dig