J. A. Rosendal

- United Kingdom -

Translates from Danish, Swedish and Norwegian into English, and English into Danish.

J.A. Rosendal specialises in translations of poetry, and has a.o. translated Danish, Swedish as well as Norwegian poetry into English, for the entire series of the cross-nordic annual anthology series ‘The Best Nonrequired Nordic Poetry’ The anthology series publishes the very best of each year’s poetry from Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Iceland. The sixth volume of the anthology series will be published in March 2026.

J.A.Rosendal works closely with the poets, ensuring the translations are as true to the original works as possible in nuances, tone and rhythm for every poet and every poem

- as the transformation into a new language still adds new layers and flavours to the poetry.

J.A. Rosendal has translated the poetry of all Danish poets chosen to feature in VERSOPOLIS, the pan-European online literary magazine, for the last three years, and will continue doing so..

J.A. Rosendal has also translated full works of poetry, a.o. award winning Danish poet Sebastian Nathan’s beloved poetry collection ‘Honey Moon’, as well as translated from English into Danish, a.o. essays by Dave Eggers.

More about the translator

Translated by J. A. Rosendal

light turns into leaves /

You fall into a      world

wild   and   ever-changing

like the light

              after a storm

I am a bird egg

fluid

new      and holy

in     a wealth of    yellow anemones

It is here

Here the sun grows
on the rocks
and     small fuzzy creatures
  swim     in and out
in shoals

We sail across
the orange water

and         advance
through green corridors

Here is
the sky
  in the water’s edge

like                   sand

and we are
clam shells
at     the bottom,

as the sun           floods

all across
Saturday

Here insects exist
like eagles

and     birds
like        suns

on the branches of the trees

red sorrel
meadow ant
grey seal      and common blue

cranes and    foxes

Dragonflies                red deer

beetles     and       caterpillars

exist

like grains in the sand        of           the mind

now that                   the names
has      become so unfamiliar
you    have    to feel your way forward

seagulls

spoke and sang

from here
and   far out  into    the dark

shiny

golden

voices

Imagine

all of that
exists

The sky here

dissolves    itself
before it

once more

becomes soft and
new       and
near

We     laugh    loudly
for     ourselves
and     the birds

and blow
  without hesitation
The door for
yet      another    summer

open

here    the trees    stand
gentle     and mighty
    like     seaweed forests

      and     death     is
just        a monster
with       velvet skin

    that     sings
like         rushing waves
   for        us

Here
in     the shadow of
flowers
   like        umbrellas

we forget
our language

      stars     wander
lightly  above  us

quiet as

  feet in        grass

the water     towers
above us
and then     falls
again
and again
like     a knife

the gaze    is    a string
between      the trunks
and  we
    melt together
in                a forest edge

hiding
underneath         faltering bones
   new     roots     shoot

and      I     am
summernights
wild horses

restless

rapefield

and wrinkled rose

in full bloom

the next                 morning
I have
lost my way

It is
a        desert

of        bladderwrack
and     birds

big
black
trunks

                                                                                                                                 cling
                                                                                                                       themselves
                                                                                                                                     to
                                                                                                                                    me

                                                                                                                       and
                                                                                                                  worms
                                                                                                                     grow
                                                                                                        in the crowns
                                                                                                                    above

the shore   is burnt all up
in      a      blistering light
like    a     disease

the beach is still there

in an inky black flurry of flowers

we don’t see it

we     are     animals
in     seawater

quietly roaming around
under       the surface

of   wide    open spaces

One day

we

and the others

come rising from the bottom

again

like kingfishers

a fallen tree
steps   gingerly
through
the forest undergrowth

walks     across      the swamp

   and comes
right up     close    to us

the road is

there

along the
fresh waters
and
radiant      butterflies

    precisely
narrow enough
that    you    have to walk
on the leaves of the trees

we sway
     between the pine trees
on        paths     of     light

we arrive
where        the sea
    is stuck to
the forests

and         slow down
better
to        see

Here is water mint
And       dahlia anemones

swaying

between       the fields

quiet     and     mild

and     we live
like   the mushrooms
hidden under    wheat
and     misty rain

vulnerable

in a fleck of sun

flutters

a sense of

insects

once,     we were
green
and
slow

like oak woods

now we are

                                                                                                                      refined
                                                                                                                       frozen
                                                                                                                          blue

sleep is

wild and

alive

the sky

is

barren

We     are    here
still
alone      and    outlawed
     with a fear of spring
blossoming in our chests
between        carnations     and     orchids

sometimes
we              find
each other

naked        and         worn out

floating
in the winter darkness

like      leaves     on         water

our body has forgotten
that               we live

the flesh
the skin
the hands

rocking
in
the world

the light leans in
and        nestles
on            the hair
as a                  crown

I carry
the darkness
in my mouth

                                                                                                                                         and say:

A winter
you    carry with you
                    far   into
                the summer

now          awoke
the scent of          grass

and cried

in    the     first
white        light

like             a             child

And maybe one day
you can
just             be

a           place
where           the sun        kneels down
above           us
and the night is
soft
and           creaky
like             an accordion

light turns into leaves

in time

We lie
in the earth
as            forests
to be

you become

new and beautiful

and          you          grow
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
/ (Untitled)

I go for a walk at the cemetery
eat an ice cream

there's an appeasing rain falling
I and the others are together in it

spring turns to summer
and sometimes there's grief

the boys are racing round the hospital

then it turns into evening
and even though it turns dark the evenings are pleasant

you can go for a bike ride
in a light jacket and long trousers
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
jeg går tur på kirkegården
spiser en is

der er et forsonende regnvejr i gang
jeg og de andre er sammen i det

forår bliver til sommer og nogle
gange er der sorg

drengene kører ræs rundt om hospitalet

så bliver det aften og selvom det bliver
mørkt er aftenerne rare

så man kan cykle en tur i
en let jakke og lange bukser
/ (Untitled)

at night I don't sleep
I'm far away when the day begins

lie in the grass
under the clouds with a book and a bottle of water

I biked up along tagensvej
i heard the birds on the summer breeze, i drive fast
i am alone in the night

in a way this wasn't about me
happiness was something we gave to each other
isn't that lovely to think about

the sun sets
you can still bathe in the sea
the sky turns blue and cool and light
then the sun rises again

the boys set fire to combustible material
they see the waste container melting
a bonfire that spreads
a small sea of plastic in a parking lot
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
om natten sover jeg ikke
jeg er langt væk når dagen går i gang

ligger i græsset
under skyerne med en bog og en flaske vand

jeg cyklede op ad tagensvej
i hear the birds onthe summer breeze, i drive fast
i am alone in the night

på en måde handlede det ikke om mig
lykken var noget vi gav til hinanden
er det ikke dejligt at tænke på

solen går ned
man kan stadig bade i havet
himlen bliver blå og kølig og lys
så kommer solen op igen

drengene sætter ild til småt brændbart
de ser containeren smelte
et bål der breder sig
et lille hav af plastik på en parkeringsplads
/ (Untitled)

I don't know their names
now they lay inside my eyes sparkling

hours went by but the footsteps stopped
the planes carry the memories

the last light tore everything with it
the silence was allowed to grow until it took over everything
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
jeg ved ikke hvad de hed
nu lå de inde i mine øjne og glimtede

timerne gik men skridtene ophørte
flyene bærer minderne

det sidste lys hev alt med sig
stilheden fik lov til at vokse indtil den fyldte det hele
/ (Untitled)

the crows spread their wings in a joint movement
leave a tree
and draw themselves in the light
of a setting sun

it's almost without colours
just light
mist with a leaning
towards evening

a back rising upwards
the knees are held against the chest
and the head resting against the wall

the high-rises lie to the right of the lake
they were built in another time
now the lights were switched on
the crows fly across the lake

nothing else is moving
the crows fly in
settle in the trees
the sun slowly lowers itself
all around the lake there are trees
and the eyes are large
slow ships
they never arrive at anything
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
kragerne spreder vingerne i en samlet bevægelse
forlader et træ
og tegner sig selv i lyset
fra en nedgående sol

det er næsten uden farver
bare lys
dis med en bøjning
mod aften

en ryg der går opad
knæene er holdt ind til brystet
og hovedet hviler mod væggen

højhusene ligger til højre for søen
de blev bygget i en anden tid
nu blev lysene tændt
kragerne flyver ud over søen

der er ikke andet der bevæger sig
kragerne flyver ind
sætter sig i træerne
solen sænker sig langsomt
hele vejen rundt om søen er der træer
og øjnene er store
langsomme skibe
de når ikke frem til noget
/ (Untitled)

in my thoughts we were at tagensborg
I felt rich there
very rich

and I follow a thought going under

sometimes it feels as if you're sitting within my body
and then it hurts

there are nice dreams, but then you wake up
the whole day is sleepy

we're a group of people under a large linden tree
this rain is a mark of the summer
violent and sudden

beautiful as fuck especially when it comes at night
impossible to see through
but it passes
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
vi var på tagensborg i mine tanker
der følte jeg mig rig
meget rig

og jeg følger en tanke gå under

nogle gange føles det som om du sidder i min krop
og så gør det ondt

der er rare drømme, men så vågner man
hele dagen er søvnig

vi er en gruppe mennesker under et stort lindetræ
den her regn er et kendetegn ved sommeren
voldsom og pludselig

smuk som bare fuck især når den kommer om natten
det er ikke til at se igennem
men det driver over
/ (Untitled)

one day is the same as the next

the light rests on the church
the sun shines gingerly

pale bricks and red roofs

the silence that suddenly acted differently
that there was a shell in the messages
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
den ene dag ligner den anden

lyset ligger på kirken
solen skinner forsigtigt

lyse mursten og røde tage

stilheden der pludselig opførte sig anderledes
at der var en skal i beskederne
/ (Untitled)

the sun shines through the window
and up upon the sky
the moon hangs like a smile
soon even more opaque and soon also
all gone

I lick up the traces
after what was

glittering hair in a laundry basket
sweet honey
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
solen skinner ind ad vinduet
og oppe på himlen
hænger månen som et smil
snart endnu mere udvisket og snart også
helt væk

jeg slikker sporene op
efter det der var

glitrende hår i en vasketøjskurv
sød honning
/ (Untitled)

eyes seeing stars for fourteen days

alone in the sleepless nights
longer and longer
lonely hangovers
thought we would be sharing the nightmares

I collect the pictures

to see them and think
this is where I tried to hold on to a happy moment
there, I was happy
there, I was happy
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
stjerner for øjnene i fjorten dage

alene om de søvnløse nætter
længere og længere
ensomme tømmermænd
tænkte vi skulle være fælles om mareridtene

jeg samler på billederne

at se dem og tænke
her forsøgte jeg at fastholde en lykkelig stund
dér var jeg lykkelig
dér var jeg lykkelig
/ (Untitled)

the rain has stopped
the light has settled itself against the flats
the balconies from first to eighth
sometimes there's sun

there's a little coffee left
it's cold
it's turned into evening really
but the day didn't start till late

the birds land
in the grass
sun and then shadow
from the clouds
the leaves are falling off already
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
regnen er stoppet
lyset har lagt sig op ad lejlighederne
altanerne fra første til ottende
nogle gange er der sol

der er lidt kaffe tilbage
den er kold
det er egentlig blevet aften
men dagen gik først sent i gang

fuglene lander
i græsset
sol og så skygge
fra skyerne
bladene falder allerede af
/ (Untitled)

just outside the city
a hand that has closed up
across my eyes
and between the fingers
a starry sky

this feeling of long time
no see
that it could even end like this at all

the moon looks at me through a cloud
I just want to see you
it doesn't matter what time of day it is
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
lige ude af byen
en hånd der har lukket sig
over mine øjne
og mellem de fingre
en stjernehimmel

denne følelse af long time
no see
at det overhovedet kunne ende sådan

månen kigger på mig gennem en sky
jeg vil bare gerne se dig
det er lige meget hvad tid på dagen det er
/ (Untitled)

a plane flying across the sky
it's evening
and then
down below the trees

a hand grasping for
nothing really
but still
took almost everything
with it
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
et fly der flyver henover himlen
det er aften
og så
ned bag træerne

en hånd der griber efter
intet egentligt
men alligevel
fik nærmest det hele
med sig afsted
/ (Untitled)

an extra layer
a thicker coat
hat, gloves

I was so nervous
look, the sun has set before four o'clock
look at the sun, it's all gone

this is how we met:
drank beer
you found me in a haystack, a snowdrift
a pile of leaves during autumn break
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
et ekstra lag
en større jakke
hue, handsker

jeg var så nervøs
se, solen er gået ned før klokken fire
se solen, den er helt væk

vi mødtes sådan her:
drak øl
du fandt mig i en høstak, en snedrive
en bunke af blade i efterårsferien
/ (Untitled)

love runs away like a horse
goes to bed late and gets up early

far away you can hear the sea
saying that everything goes on

the evening arrives
turning the sky rosy pink

there are lights on in some of the windows
we humans emerge

me drawing a heart
on top of your heart
with a marker
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
kærligheden løber væk som en hest
går sent i seng og står tidligt op

langt væk kan man høre havet
fortælle at alting går videre

aftenen kommer
gør himlen lyserød

der er lys i nogle af vinduerne
vi mennesker træder frem

mig der tegner et hjerte
oven på dit hjerte
med en tusch
/ (Untitled)

these days remind me of you

the leaves are already falling off

the sun shines
runs like juice from a peach
between the fingers
and forms a lake
in the hand
me licking your hand

far above the city

the sun trembles above the rooftops
hauling out the pictures
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
de her dage minder mig om dig

bladene falder allerede af

solen skinner
løber som saft fra en fersken
mellem fingrene
og danner en sø
i hånden
mig der slikker din hånd

langt over byen

solen dirrer over hustagene
hiver billederne frem
/ (Untitled)

the sun sets
blots out everything

then the lights of the cars are turned on

it's a cooler light

the sound of a moped, of lonely walks
geese cackling in the sunset
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
solen går ned
tværer alt ud

så bliver bilernes lygter tændt

det er et køligere lys

lyden af en knallert, af ensomme gåture
gæs der skræpper i solnedgangen
/ (Untitled)

a picture I took of your hand
the phone opens up a room
pushes the night away
what you reach out for
no matter what
one day it flies away

like the birds
through the evening

and the horizon holds all colours right now
a foot poking out from the darkness
as if it was an eiderdown
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
et billede jeg tog af din hånd
telefonen åbner et rum
skubber natten væk
det man rækker ud efter
lige meget hvad
en dag flyver det væk

ligesom fuglene
igennem aftenen

og horisonten har alle farver lige nu
en fod der stikker ud af mørket
som om det var en dyne
/ (Untitled)

the pictures descend
like a hand
over the eyes
so you can't see
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
billederne lægger sig
som en hånd
over øjnene
så man ikke kan se
/ (Untitled)

the crows settle in the branches
a forest has grown
people disappear behind the trees
it's grown dark too
I look at the lake
the water is deep, it's like a mirror
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
kragerne sætter sig i grenene
der er vokset en skov frem
folk forsvinder bag træerne
det er også blevet mørkt
jeg kigger på søen
vandet er dybt, det er ligesom et spejl
/ (Untitled)

in a kitchen smelling of toast

eating dates
and thinking of a tip for the traveller:
don't

heaven laughs at you

it's memories of
open nights
whole 24 hour days like that

there were
waves inside those eyes

a boat floated in your hand
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
i et køkken der dufter af ristet brød

spiser dadler
og tænker på et tip til den rejsende:
lad være

himlen griner af dig

det er minder om
åbne nætter
hele døgn på den måde

der var
bølger inde i øjnene

der flød en båd i din hånd
/ (Untitled)

paint a picture for me boy
with the skies forever blue

in a shop window I found
beaming lights
a display of bread and cakes
and we stepped forward into the window pane
I thought: Now I've found the entire world

I could have bought it all
given it to you

I sat on the plane and thought
this here sea below me
it's gigantic
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
paint a picture for me boy
with the skies forever blue

i et butiksvindue fandt jeg
strålende lys
en opstilling af brød og kager
og vi trådte frem i ruden
jeg tænkte: nu har jeg fundet hele verden

jeg kunne have købt det hele
givet det til dig

jeg sad i flyet og tænkte
det her hav under mig
det er enormt
/ (Untitled)

the days no longer what they were

the look in your eyes within the picture

the sound of an alarm crumbled up what we knew
what we 'd lived in
we didn't sleep

now nothing moves on

under a lamp
there's a room
it is calm
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
dagene ligner ikke sig selv

dit blik inde i billedet

lyden af en alarm krøllede det vi kendte
det vi havde boet i
vi sov ikke

nu kommer ingenting videre

under en lampe
er der et rum
det er roligt
/ (Untitled)

the sun shines through the window

a summer is a mirror
all days pointing at each other

lies can buy eternity

I cut my hair and changed my clothes
tried on a sea of sweaters
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
solen skinner ind ad vinduet

en sommer er et spejl
alle dage peger på hinanden

lies can buy eternity

jeg klippede mit hår og skiftede tøj
prøvede et hav af trøjer
/ (Untitled)

the night is dark and open

the planes appear like lights

heading towards the coast like speeding stars
each and every one holding a promise

I sit on a swing until I walk home
for a long time, I can hear the waves
the water breaking the silence, that it's silent once more
it's like laughter in the dark

there are hands made of water
there are hundreds of them
they lace their fingers underneath the sand
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
natten er mørk og åben

flyene dukker op som lys

på vej mod kysten som hurtige stjerner
hver og et med et løfte

jeg sidder på en gynge indtil jeg går hjem
længe kan jeg høre bølgerne
vandet der bryder tavsheden, at der bliver stille igen
det er ligesom latter i mørket

der er hænder der er lavet af vand
der er hundrede af dem
de fletter fingre under sandet
/ (Untitled)

the boys lie with some space between them
the dreams draw a map
the land's called why not and there they can meet
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
drengene ligger med en afstand imellem sig
drømmene tegner et kort
landet hedder why not og der kan de mødes
/ (Untitled)

I can see the moon

there's a dog barking
the villas can hold a great misery
I think of the days after school

tonight the veins are fairy string lights
I don't land on my feet

just say goodnight and go

the dogs bark
because the night
is evil
and impossible to endure

rounds around the lake
are fingers on my forehead

palms stroking my hair
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
jeg kan se månen

der er en hund der gør
villaerne kan rumme en stor ulykke
jeg tænker på dagene efter skole

i nat er årerne lyskæder
jeg lander ikke på fødderne

just say goodnight and go

hundene gør
fordi natten
er ond
og ikke til at være i

runder om søen
er fingre i panden

håndflader der stryger håret
/ (Untitled)

a bird stands in the grass looking at me
the lake lies behind it

everything has already shifted

a pointing gesture
without any fingers

another time
on minor roads

small bikes
en route to friends
joysticks in small hands, pushing
rolling thumbs
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
der står en fugl i græsset og kigger på mig
søen ligger bag den

alt har allerede flyttet sig

en pegende gestus
der ikke har fingre

en anden tid
ad mindre veje

små cykler
på vej til venner
joysticks i små hænder, skubbende
rullende tommelfingre
/ (Untitled)

under the lamps

in the lights calm falls

fruits land in water
and becomes a bath

a chat isn't disturbing

I go for a walk as the snow falls
the light splits the whole time
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
under lamperne

i lysene samler roen sig

frugter lander i vand
og bliver til et bad

en chat er ikke forstyrrende

jeg går tur mens sneen daler
lyset deler sig hele tiden
/ (Untitled)

the sun is light and green
it lies across the lake

I wanted only to look down into the water
my eyes were all wet

winter came
my eyelids froze shut
then I could only see you

the day is a hood, a hole
a sea I pull my head into
every day the same clothes
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
solen er let og grøn
den ligger over søen

jeg havde kun lyst til at kigge ned i vandet
mine øjne var helt våde

det blev vinter
mine øjenlåg frøs fast
så kunne jeg kun se dig

dagen er en hætte, et hul
et hav jeg trækker hovedet ind i
hver dag det samme tøj
/ (Untitled)

the sun is hidden behind a grey sky

I think it was the distance
that split us apart

things change
when we talk about them
they'll surely turn beautiful

once I saw you
in a mirror
with golden framing
at the victoria & albert
in a room that was dusty and full of people

time is long like a motorway
the sun shines

it's been almost a year
everything is the same
it just looks like something else
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
solen er gemt bag en grå himmel

jeg tror det var afstanden
der skilte os ad

tingene ændrer sig
når vi taler om dem
så skal de nok blive smukke

jeg så dig engang
i et spejl
med gyldne kanter
på victoria and albert
i et rum der var støvet og fuldt af mennesker

tiden er lang som en motorvej
solen skinner

der er næsten gået et år
alting er det samme
det ligner bare noget andet
GHAZAAL / GHAZAAL

I don't want to go to the mosque
only the women are allowed
to wear gold and silk
ustad says
as he caresses my ears
my Arabic teacher
calls me his gazelle
my little cypress
and forces me to do in hiding
what I want to do in the open
dance around in a dress and bare feet
on gold embroidered carpets
pour wine and mint tea
to married men
with dyed henna beards
trade for compliments and cheek kisses
fennel seeds and figs
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Jeg vil ikke i moskeen
det er kun kvinderne der må
gå med guld og silke
siger ustad
når han kærtegner mine ører
min arabisklærer
kalder mig for sin gazelle
min lille cypres
og tvinger mig til at gøre i skjul
hvad jeg ønsker at gøre i offentlighed
danse rundt i kjole og bare fødder
på guldbroderede tæpper
og skænke vin og myntete
til gifte mænd
med hennafarvede skæg
i bytte for komplimenter og kindkys
fennikelfrø og figner
SCAFFOLDS / STILLADSER

It's a flying summer
when he lands in my life
candle wax on his dad's Persian rugs
every Friday after khutba
dreams of him and judgement day
when we stand pissing out across a suburban roof
roll wizards till our fingers are sticky
and ash indica on the fire escape
gentle with the drugs
tactless with love
chapped lips and dry orgasms
boys are never given flowers
he says one of those nights
where all we have
in our hands are each other
like Tristan and Isolde
Layla and Majnun
Romeo and Juliet
Adam and Eve
Edward and Bella
Bonnie and Clyde
none of them have our names
and Dumbledore is just another gay in the closet
'coz all the stories teach us
that a boy who is into boys
is a dead boy
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Det er en flyvende sommer
da han lander i mit liv
stearin på hans fars persiske tæpper
hver fredag efter khutba
drømme om ham og dommedag
når vi står og pisser ud over et forstadstag
ruller troldmænd til fingrene klistrer
og asker indica på brandtrappen
nænsom med stofferne
taktløs med kærligheden
sprukne læber og tørre orgasmer
drenge får aldrig blomster
siger han en af de nætter
hvor det eneste vi har
i hænderne er hinanden
som Tristan og Isolde
Layla og Majnun
Romeo og Julie
Adam og Eva
Edward og Bella
Bonnie og Clyde
ingen af dem har vores navne
og Dumbledore er bare endnu en bøsse i skabet
for alle historierne lærer os
at en dreng der er til drenge
er en død dreng
CITY VEST / CITY VEST

We're sitting on top of City Vest
interlocking fingers
summer has just begun
and my beloved undresses
gold chain and puff jacket
everything done
endlessly slow
like when Rumi sought his Shams
now it's my turn
to blush
he's put on lace panties
I so want to be a woman
he says
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Vi sidder på toppen af City Vest
og fletter fingre
sommeren er lige begyndt
og min elskede afklæder sig
guldkæde og dynejakke
alt foregår
uendeligt langsomt
som da Rumi søgte sin Shams
nu er det min tur
til at rødme
han har taget blondetrusser på
jeg vil så gerne være kvinde
siger han
LOVE SPELL IV / KÆRLIGHEDSBESVÆRGELSE IV

Aminah says
write this on a piece of green paper
men come and go
leave open wounds
then put the paper inside a tube of reed
and dress it
with a mix of clay and salt
put the reed
in the bottom of a tealight cup
every time the fire is lit
you extinguish your beloved's desire for someone else
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Aminah siger
skriv dette på et stykke grønt papir
mænd kommer og går
efterlader åbne sår
læg derefter papiret i et rør af siv
og beklæd det
med en blanding af ler og salt
læg sivet
i bunden af et fyrfad
hver gang ilden tænder
slukker du din elskedes begær til en anden
COMPUTER BLUE / COMPUTER BLUE

180 horny women in my area
AI tells me
as I sit
falling in love with a porn star
Adam Ramzi
Jaxton Wheeler
Samuel Colt
Luke Truong
Johnny Rapid
Cutler X
Sharok
Austin Wolf
Rocco Steele
Dale Savage
Armond Rizzo
Max Connor and Ryan Bones
how many gang bangs does it take
before the machine realizes
that it has to stop sending me its hetero-spam
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
180 liderlige kvinder i området
fortæller en AI mig
mens jeg sidder
og forelsker mig i en pornostjerne
Adam Ramzi
Jaxton Wheeler
Samuel Colt
Luke Truong
Johnny Rapid
Cutler X
Sharok
Austin Wolf
Rocco Steele
Dale Savage
Armond Rizzo
Max Connor og Ryan Bones
hvor mange gangbangs skal der til
før maskinen fatter
den skal stoppe med at sende mig sit hetero-spam
STADEN / STADEN

Real Arabs don't go to therapy
they go to Staden
so I go to Staden once more
buy two joints and a bottle of gin
I don't have a depression
I have a djinn

(Staden; – is another name for Christiania, a self-governed alternative Community in Copenhagen, a.m.o. known for open trade of cannabis)
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Ægte perkere går ikke til psykolog
de går på staden
så jeg går på staden igen
køber to joints og en flaske gin
jeg har ikke en depression
jeg har en djinn
HONEYMOON / HVEDEBRØDSDAGE

I write the learned sufi
the rabbi
the imam and the shaman
on WhatsApp
who will pay
my dowry now
I'm possessed
the angels won't enter
this home
the djinns move freely
by my bed
a hookah stands bubbling
blue mist
into my lover's mouth
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Jeg skriver til den lærde sufi
rabbineren
imamen og shamanen
på WhatsApp
hvem skal nu betale
min medgift
jeg er besat
englene vil ikke ind
i dette hjem
djinnerne bevæger sig frit
ved min seng
står en vandpibe og bobler
blue mist
i min elskers mund
MEDINA / MEDINA

And now what
do you blame me for my existence
call my love a sin
lock your smiles away
turn your gazes inwards
and curse me
says Ibliss
Yajuj and Majuj
Dajjal
as if we haven't always been here
at this market place
in the mosque and the hammams
You can no longer deny us
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Og hvad nu
bebrejder I mig stadig min eksistens
kalder min kærlighed for en synd
låser jeres smil væk
vender blikkene indad
og forbander mig
siger Ibliss
Yajuj og Majuj
Dajjal
som om vi ikke altid har altid været her
på denne markedsplads
i moskeen og hamammerne
I kan ikke fornægte os længere
REVERB / RVMKLVNG

I wrote him a poem
love at first sight
I love him but he loves me not
the sound of an eternal reverb
a long Frank Ocean song
dirty men, nights out 'till 5 am
poppers and PrEP
two bodies, one bed
when I come I forget myself
three times in one night
when he comes he leaves
I say nothing
just open the window ajar
let the darkness seep in
as I watch him disappear in my horizon
I lit a stick
next weekend
same thing
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
jeg skrev ham et digt
kærlighed ved første blik
jeg elsker ham men han elsker mig ik
lyden af en evig rumklang
en lang Frank Ocean-sang
beskidte mænd, byture til klokken 5
poppers og PrEP
to kroppe, en seng
når jeg kommer, glemmer jeg mig selv
tre gange på en nat
når han kommer, går han igen
jeg siger ingenting
åbner bare vinduet på klem
lader mørket træde ind
mens jeg ser ham forsvinde i min horisont
tænder jeg for en pind
næste weekend
samme ting
Excerpt from 'You can just write about the stars yourselves!' / Uddrag fra 'I kan da også bare skrive om stjernerne!'

Her spine is like an indoor pool ladder reaching out into the ocean - out there she sees
the corners of the world like shark fins with rhododendron drops on them.

.

Skeletal suns can now bellycrawl through the
two
parallel lines' collapse.

.

Thanks to a job as a bellhop (DELIVER SMILES TO EVERY
SIDE OF THE STAR SPACE) for
the star space
now, every morning my heart can send a box of fruits from
the tree of life home to those in paradise.

.

And yes, it is my light blue hat paradise has lying in front of it,
when it blossoms in the street.

.

And my skin absorbs God's blue raincoat.

.

The dolphins tick the "Very happy" box in the stars'
satisfaction survey, even though the stars have never ridden them.

.

She's in the sea with her head above sea level like
a nut in a Ritter Sport bar, cracked open in the middle.

.

The starry sky sends the stars to boarding school as early as when

they're only tiny flickers of light in our brains

.

The sea loves everything about landing in the spotlight because it swallows several
liters of star space .

.

I scald my toothbrush in boiled water from the paradise rivers,

so that Eve, completely beside herself, can use it.
It's better than star dental floss.

.

Her spine is the brace the sun must wear on its teeth, because
their light reaches beyond paradise.

.

The stars talk with large star spaces in their mouths, when they say here
name, so only I can hear what's being said: Queen of the Night.

.

The sea can't go outside a gate of paradise without the stars jumping in.

.

My sciatica nerve is used as a cheese slicer's string for the sun. Sunslices.

.

The stars return the shirt, they knit from my nerves, and receive
a marble basin

.

The sea is rented out to paradise as an airbnb, while we throw ourselves into the waves.

.

Her breath: The stars dig themselves out from under the star space's fence.

.

God butters up a packed lunch full of rhododendron for paradise

before it goes to Eve's.

.

The sea lifts itself above its education from youth and takes the world
with it as its diploma into the starless.

.

Now, it's time to harvest in paradise. So we sail in on sun- and star ships to
help out.

.

To the bathers: The star sea you're heading out onto, is like a bath tub only filled
with foam, no water.

.

Paradise has a season ticket for your star fruit life +1 companion so I can come too!

Your eyes lie lurking in the star space. They wait until the sea
comes forward to erase the traces of paradise's wild night. Then
They jump in to see me.

.

She's given the sea a whole day to furnish the stars for five kroner.
That day we sprint directly into the waves.

.

The sea is a social experiment with folding chairs on the stars, which
fails completely the minute our heads are under.

.

Glimpses of light cleanse the water of all misunderstandings between the sea and the star space which might survive our dip..
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Hendes rygrad er en svømmehalsstige ud i havet – hun ser derude
verdenshjørnerne som hajfinner med rododendrondråber på.

.

Radmagre sole kan nu mave sig igennem de
to
parallelle linjers sammenfald.

.

Takket være et piccolojob (FRAGTE SMIL UD TIL ALLE
SIDER I STJERNERUMMET) for
stjernerummet
kan mit hjerte nu hver morgen sende en kasse med frugter fra
livets træ hjem til dem i paradiset.

.

Og ja, det er min lyseblå hat, som paradiset har liggende foran sig,
når det blomstrer på gaden.

.

Og min hud absorberer Guds blå regnjakke.

.

Delfinerne sætter kryds ved ”Meget glad” i stjernernes
tilfredshedsundersøgelse, selvom stjernerne aldrig har redet på dem.

.

Hun er i havet med hovedet over havoverfladen som
en nød i en plade Ritter Sport, der knækkes midt over.

.

Stjernehimlen sender stjernerne på kostskole allerede når de

kun er små lysglimt i vores hjerner.

.

Havet elsker alt ved at komme i spotlyset fordi det sluger flere liter
stjernerum.

.

Jeg skolder min tandbørste i kogt vand fra paradisfloderne,

så Eva, helt ude af sig selv, kan bruge den.
Det er bedre end stjernetandtråd.

.

Hendes rygrad er den bøjle, solen skal have på tænderne, fordi deres
lys når uden for paradis.

.

Stjernerne taler med store stjernerum i munden, når de siger hendes
navn, så kun jeg kan høre, hvad der bliver sagt: Nattens Dronning.

.

Havet kan ikke gå uden for en paradisport uden at stjernerne
springer i.

.

Min iskiasnerve bruges som en ostehøvlestreng til solen. Solskiver.

.

Stjernerne refunderer den skjorte, de strikkede af mine nerver, og får
et marmorbassin.

.

Havet lejes ud til paradiset som airbnb, imens vi kaster os i bølgerne.

.

Hendes åndedrag: Stjernerne graver sig ud under stjernerummets hegn.

.

Gud smører en madpakke fuld af rododendron til paradiset

inden det skal hen til Eva.

.

Havet løfter sig op over sin ungdomsuddannelse og tager verden med
sig som diplom ind i det stjerneløse.

.

Nu skal der høstes i paradis. Så vi sejler på sol- og stjerneskibe ind for
at hjælpe til.

.

Til de badende: Det stjernehav, I er på vej ud i, er som et badekar kun fyldt
med skum, intet vand.

.

Paradiset har årskort til dit stjernefrugtliv + ledsager, så jeg kan
komme med!

.

Dine øjne ligger på lur i stjernerummet. De venter, til havet
kommer derop for at slette sporene efter paradisets vilde nat. Så
springer de i for at se mig.

.

Hun har givet havet en hel dag til at møblere stjernerne for fem kroner.
Den dag spurter vi direkte ud i bølgerne.

.

Havet er et socialt eksperiment med klapstole på stjernerne, som går
helt galt i det øjeblik, vi får hovederne under.

.

Lysglimt renser vandet for alle misforståelser mellem havet og
stjernerummet, der måtte overleve vores dukkert.
Excerpt from The Illumination of Everything / Uddrag fra 'Illuminationen af alt'

Our shadows nerd the beyond - how many times it has visited the world,
when, which hair style
we had the last time it came
what we held in our hand
which bag on our back (the universe backpacks through me with my heart
on its back: I see everything.)
which shape -

look, a star unfastening its wristwatch in one of the possible stars' holes

look, the crane

.

Four cherubs stand encircling each of our two shadows. I look at you over the
hair of one of my shadows's cherubs
(The world has had to having to survive only by Creation).

.

the blocking of the universe doesn't stop you, it's because you've been here before
(The world gives the event Creation a whole new meaning.)

.

the blocking of the universe raps insecurely about your backpack, you open it
(The world is not meant as a criticism of the dust, but as an encouragement.)

.

stars mutter about some secret or other they're planning, and
then comes over to us and illuminates you. This is what they wanted. I give them
a 100 kroner banknote for it, but they won't accept anything.
(The world is more than just a place, it is the second home of the sunflower seeds).

.

we widen the distance between us, our brains are the white crosses drawn onto
the place in which we both stood
(The worlds keep the Creation out of it. So they must be said to have been created).

.

stars try to explain to my blood, what light is, I shoot my blood into
the universe using a star as syringe

and everything is illuminated
(The world is not well regarded in the circles the Creation moves within. There,
they're more into the beyond).

the universe stretches out to all sides like a star, where are you?
(The beyond creates the best conditions for the world, which it doesn't make use of).

.

the universe falls down a little, but I still look intensely out through it
(The world's Creation is the first time we are brave enough to step forward, and tell of nothing).

.

I shoot my blood into the universe, the universe rushes out in four moves, I don't see
you. It's enough for now, Daisy*.
(The world can't process all of that freedom: Uses it on metaphysics.)

*Daisy: the nickname of the universe

.

A star nebula arranges a meeting place for all specks of stardust, should they be lost
from each other: In Rome, at The Trevi Fountain.
(Creation starts making a world, that will become important in the work of
improving the living conditions of sunflowers.)

The stars must wear our heartwalls as hi viz vests.
(The world combines its creation with a visit to the un-created.)
You drag the stars with you to a concert with the empty space.
(By being it';s almost as if we've had the sunflowers back.)
The star space stands up for my dreams, as you'd stand up for an elderly
lady on the bus. - Are they 'so last year'?
(Creation almost won't go back to fetch the world, would sooner create a
new one).
A star has a path in the universe named after it after having saved a heart
from drowning in love.
(If the world must be created some time, the un-created will be left behind alone.)
The star space has blissfully forgotten that it's meant to mind our hearts for a couple of hours.
(The world is an opportunity to say hello to the created).
You can't figure out a way through the stars' child locks!
(Without the world we'd never have thought of picking sunflowers and putting them in vases.)

.

The universe is doing cartwheels in my heart

because it's just won everything!
(Creation often joins in the dust's get-togethers for the elderly.)

.

The stars aren't keeping quiet about your heart beating fast. Admittedly, the
blue spring doesn't either.
(The world is impossible to avoid for those who are interested in what
Creation is doing.)

.

The universe stands in a flock of universes discussing everything - you daren't interrupt and ask the universe if we can run freely through it.
(The world might spend more time away from the created going forward.)

.

Your skin is something the star space has just taken out of the freezer, because
there were no more fresh stars left.
(The world is a fine place to start if you want to do something with flowers,
but aren't ready to let go of the transcendental fully.)

.

The star space breaks a sweat from my heartbeats - it dries off in your
skin.
(The world comes to mind, when a strong world is needed to lift a sunflower seed.)

.

Stars cling to my veins. So this is how poetry is feeling?
(During the Creation, the ideal really had all it could take. And now it just blossoms.)

.

The physical version of the universe is almost impossible to unearth. Stars run amock, when they see it.
(A world is the last thing reality needs right now, with all of those dream horses.)

.

Most star spaces would probably have jumped ship, when they saw you writing your name on the stars' bellies,

that was my idea.
(The world is pre-floral.)
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
Vores skygger nørder det hinsides – hvor mange gange det har besøgt verden,
hvornår, hvilken frisure
vi havde sidst, det kom,
hvad vi havde i hånden,
hvilken taske på ryggen (universet backpacker igennem mig med mit hjerte
på ryggen: jeg ser alt),
hvilken form –

se en stjerne spænde sit armbåndsur af i et af de mulige stjerners huller

se tranen

.

Der står fire keruber omkring hver af vores to skygger. Jeg ser på dig hen over
håret på min skygges ene kerub.
(Verden er kommet ud for at måtte overleve kun på skabelse.)

.

universblokeringen standser ikke dig, det er fordi du har været her før
(Verden giver begivenheden skabelse en helt ny mening.)

.

universblokeringen rapper uselvsikkert om din rygsæk, du åbner den
(Verden er ikke ment som en kritik af støvet, men som en opmuntring.)

.

stjerner tisker om et eller andet hemmeligt, som de er ved at aftale, og
kommer så hen til os og illuminerer dig. Det var det, de ville. Jeg giver dem
en 100kroneseddel for det, men de vil ikke tage imod noget
(Verden er mere end bare et sted, den er solsikkefrøenes andet hjem.)

.

vi øger afstanden imellem os, vores hjerner er de hvide kryds, der tegnes på
stedet, hvor vi stod begge to
(Verdenerne holder skabelsen udenfor. Så de må siges at være skabt.)

.

stjerner forsøger at forklare mit blod, hvad lys er, jeg skyder mit blod ind i
universet med en stjerne som sprøjte

og alt illumineres
(Verden er ikke velanset i de kredse, skabelsen kommer i. Der er man
mere til det hinsides.)

.

universet står ud til alle sider som en stjerne, hvor er du?
(Det hinsides skaber de bedste betingelser for verden, som den ikke benytter
sig af.)

.

universet falder lidt ned, men jeg kigger stadig intenst ud igennem det
(Verdens skabelse er første gang, vi er modige nok til at træde frem og fortælle
om intet.)

.

jeg skyder mit blod ind i universet, universet farer ud i fire træk, jeg ser ikke
dig. Så er det godt for nu, Daisy.
(Verden kan ikke administrere al den frihed: Bruger den på metafysik.)

.

En stjernetåge aftaler et mødested for alle støvkorn, hvis de skulle blive væk
fra hinanden: I Rom, ved Trevi-fontænen.
(Skabelsen går i gang med en verden, som skal blive vigtig i arbejdet med at
fremme solsikkers livsbetingelser.)

.

Stjernerne skal have vores hjertevægge på som refleksveste.
(Verden kombinerer sin skabelse med et besøg i det u-skabte.)

.

Du slæber stjernerne med til en koncert med det tomme rum.
(Med væren er det næsten, som om vi har fået solsikkerne igen.)

.

Stjernerummet rejser sig for mine drømme, som man rejser sig for en ældre
dame i bussen. – Er de ’so last year’?
(Skabelsen vil næsten ikke gå tilbage for at hente verden, så hellere skabe en
ny.)

.

En stjerne får opkaldt en sti i universet efter sig efter at have reddet et hjerte
fra at drukne i kærlighed.
(Hvis verden på et tidspunkt skal skabes, bliver det u-skabte ladt alene tilbage.)

.

Stjernerummet har lykkeligt glemt, at det skal passe vores hjerter et par timer.
(Verden er en mulighed for at hilse på det skabte.)

.

Du kan ikke finde ud af at komme igennem stjernernes børnesikring!
(Uden verden havde vi aldrig fundet på at plukke solsikker og stille dem i vase.)

Universet slår vejrmøller i mit hjerte

fordi det lige har vundet alt!
(Skabelsen deltager ofte i støvets ældresammenkomster.)

.

Stjernerne går ikke stille med dørene med, at dit hjerte slår hurtigt. Det gør den
blå kilde så godt nok heller ikke.
(Verden er ikke til at komme uden om for den, der interesserer sig for, hvad
skabelsen laver.)

.

Universet står i en flok universer og diskuterer alt – du tør ikke afbryde og
spørge universet, om vi må løbe frit igennem det.
(Verden kommer nok til at være længere tid væk fra det skabte fremover.)

.

Din hud er noget, stjernerummet lige har taget op af fryseren, fordi der ikke
var flere friske stjerner.
(Verden er et udmærket sted at starte, hvis man gerne vil noget med blomster,
men ikke er klar til at slippe det transcendentale helt.)

.

Stjernerummet kommer til at svede af mine hjerteslag – det tørrer sig i din
hud.
(Verden er i tankerne, når der skal bruges en stærk verden til at løfte et
solsikkefrø.)

.

Stjerner klamrer sig til mine blodårer. Så det er sådan, poesien har det!
(Under skabelsen fik det ideale virkelig sin lyst styret. Og nu blomstrer det
bare.)

.

Den fysiske version af universet er næsten umulig at opdrive. Stjerner går
amok, når de ser den.
(En verden er det sidste, virkeligheden har brug for lige nu, med alle de
drømmeheste.)

.

De fleste stjernerum var nok sprunget fra, når de så, at du skrev dit navn på
stjernernes maver,

dét var min idé.
(Verden er før-floral.)
Excerpt from 'ideal events' / Uddrag fra 'ideale begivenheder'

we swim in a line of floating keyring to 7-8 spaces - it's come undone, spaces are falling off
.

the suns cheer because they can keep their head above water, that is their light hits i.e. you, i.e. me, the darkness clearly can't keep its head above water, it spreads - hastily like arm movements, meant to keep you above water.

.

birthfields

blossom under the universe, which is sunk like a limbo stick. The birth hits the universe.

.

Infinitely high space feathers and -downs from killings on space, like on birds,

                                                                                                                         we fasten in our hair
.

I am the

into the world stamped mark (fading, like in skin, pressed against the ribs in the cloth for a while, the veins in the floor a.s.o.), the world has had by pressing against a butterfly outside of it
for a while

.

the pavements of space

(stretching like lawns stretching to the sea) are claimedfor drive-by-God - on these
we walk, as before they were claimed

.

it takes two to lift the waterfalls of the universe: one on each side - but the waterfalls are waterfalls, because one always lifts before the other gets a hold

.

realities in agreement agree on the third, who agrees with the fourth on the fifth who agrees with the sixth on the seventh: trees blossom in the fourth and the sixth reality

.

the stars are a little light having just stepped out from all-the-light-in-the-world's room onto
balconies in space for a moment to smoke,

sometimes my heart comes along from the all-the-light-in-the-world's room, out onto the balconies

space is more industrious than most. You see far. Because space is soindustrious.

.

the end of the world equals space halting its puttering, looking up to the right and chatting with someone who's just coming over, the one who's just coming over is all the space covered, coming over to thank...

.

Nothing has gifted a basket with a little of everything: a little horizon, a little opal, a little shadow and a little sun to apologise for it not being there just before, which is fine

.



                                       .... A vacant sign is populated by an entire space family, who it's meant to name - a twirling ( - we see it on our way and turn towards it

.

swimming strokes are awarded at a ceremony, where the sides of space bow and are given
my swimming strokes as a medal: bow, swim stroke, bow, swim stroke, bow, swim stroke

.

Mixed light hits mixed worlds - worlds belong under "various", even though there is a category even for "light" and "dash'

.

overcrowdedness in vanishing points, "we can't take in anymore":
the universe must vanish in actions

.

a light laughter in a star race into all dimensions; out and back, out and back.
Space can laugh on command; like saying: space can exist on command

.

reactionarily, the world only lends out effects for its own purposes.

We need an effect of helium when other spaces swallow it, i.e. they talk
in a funny and high-pitched way (COBRA).

.

the world is a sort of complicated memory aid I suppose

to, how exquisite, the world is

.

meant to be new is this

place. This place is meant to be. I don't know, I do intend to use it in a slightly
different way.

.

locations in space are space pinching its arm.
That which is beautiful, and which makes space pinch its arm, is the location reality has been

given

.

we are receiving complaints about the expansion of the universe from within the falling universe.
- What 'falling universe'?

.

reality in trouble offers to make events real, free, if you'll listen to it. Thus events
become real because reality is in trouble.

.

the world simply shortens itself now that darkness is falling, like you shorten a walk, which was
a little

insignificant anyway

.

breathing spaces in the expansion of the universe, utterly insanely out of breath,
allow a human to resurrect

like unlocking the door to your flat to fetch a scarf

.

there is a universe in any well-assorted mind

.

the way the universe is a help to figure things out, so nothing doesn't have to count cherry flowers in its head

.

does the universe need to separate itself from nothing's other trips? So it's not just yet another one of nothing's trips? How? By nothing never coming back from this trip? By being nothing's last?
Translated by J. A. Rosendal
vi svømmer i en stribe flydende nøglering til 7-8 verdensrum – den er gået op, rum rasler af

.

solene jubler, fordi de kan bunde, dvs. deres lys rammer fx dig, fx mig,
mørket kan tydeligvis ikke bunde, det breder sig – hastigt som armbevægelser, der skal holde én oven vande

.

fødselsmarker
                                 blomstrer ind under universet, der sænkes som limbostang. Fødslen rammer universet.

Uendeligt høje rumfjer og -dun fra drab på rummet, som på fugle,
                                                                                                                            sætter vi i håret

.

jeg er det

ind i verden pressede mærke(, fortonende, som i huden, der en tid presses mod stoffets riller, gulvets årer osv.), verden har fået ved at presse sig en tid mod en sommerfugl uden for sig

.

verdensrummets fortove
(der strækker sig som plæner, der strækker sig ned til havet) er inddraget til kørsel-forbi-Gud – på dem går vi, som før de blev inddraget

.

der skal to til at løfte vandfaldene i universet: én på hver side – men vandfaldene er vandfald, fordi én altid løfter, før den anden har fat

.

enige virkeligheder er enige om den tredje, som er enig med den fjerde om den femte som er enig med den sjette om den syvende: træer blomstrer i den fjerde og den sjette virkelighed

.

stjernerne er lidt lys der lige er trådt fra alt-lys-i-verdens værelse ud på balkoner i rummet et øjeblik for at ryge,

nogle gange kommer mit hjerte med ud fra alt-lys-i-verdens værelse, med ud på balkonerne

rummet er flittigere end så meget andet. Du ser langt. Fordi rummet er så flittigt.

,

verdens ende svarer til at rummet standser sit syslearbejde, ser op til højre side og sludrer med én der lige kommer hen: den, der lige kommer hen er alt det tilbagelagte rum, kommer hen for at takke …

.

Intet har givet en kurv med lidt af hvert: lidt horisont, lidt opal, lidt skygge og lidt sol
som undskyldning for, at det ikke var der lige før; hvilket er fint

.
                                                      …. Ledigt tegn befolkes af en hel verdensrumsfamilie, som det skal betegne – et svungent ( – vi ser det på vores vej og drejer derhenad.

.

svømmetag overrækkes ved en ceremoni, hvor rummets sider bukker og får overrakt
mine svømmetag som en medalje: buk, svømmetag, buk, svømmetag, buk, svømmetag

.

Blandet lys rammer blandede verdener – verdener hører under ”diverse”, selvom der er en kategori selv for
”lys”, ”strejf”

.

overfyldthed i forsvindingspunkter, ”vi kan ikke tage flere ind”: univers må forsvinde i handlinger

.

en let latter i stjerneløb ud i alle dimensioner; ud og tilbage, ud og tilbage.
Verdensrummet kan le den på kommando; som at sige: verdensrummet kan være til på kommando

.

bagstræberisk låner verden kun effekter ud til sine egne formål.

Vi skal bruge en effekt af helium, når andre rum sluger den, fx at de taler sjovt og lyst (COBRA).

.

verden er vel en slags indviklet huskeregel

til, hvor fin, verden er

.

beregnet til at være nyt er det her

sted. Dether sted er beregnet til at være. Jeg ved ikke, jeg har altså tænkt mig at bruge det på en lidt anden måde.

.

beliggenheder i rum er, at rummet niver sig i armen.
Det, som er smukt, og som får rummet til at nive sig i armen, er den beliggenhed, virkeligheden har

fået

.

vi modtager klager over universets udvidelse inde fra det faldende univers. – Hvilket ’faldende univers’?

.

virkeligheden i knibe tilbyder at gøre hændelser virkelige, gratis, hvis man vil lytte til den. Sådan bliver hændelser virkelige fordi virkeligheden er i knibe.

.

verden korter da bare sig selv af, nu det begynder at blive mørkt, som man korter en gåtur af, som også var lidt
                                                                                                                                                                ubetydelig

.

pusterum i universets udvidelse, fuldstændig sindssygt forpustede, lader et menneske opstå

som man låser sig ind i sin lejlighed og henter et tørklæde

.

der findes et univers i hvert et velassorteret sind

.

måden, hvorpå universet er en hjælp til at regne ting ud, så intet ikke behøver at regne kirsebærblomster ud i hovedet

.

behøver universet at skille sig ud fra de andre af intets rejser? Så det ikke bare er endnu én af intets rejser? Ved hvad? Ved at intet aldrig kom tilbage fra denne rejse? Ved at være intets sidste?

J. A. Rosendal

- United Kingdom -

Translated by J. A. Rosendal

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GHAZAAL / GHAZAAL

SCAFFOLDS / STILLADSER

CITY VEST / CITY VEST

LOVE SPELL IV / KÆRLIGHEDSBESVÆRGELSE IV

COMPUTER BLUE / COMPUTER BLUE

STADEN / STADEN

HONEYMOON / HVEDEBRØDSDAGE

MEDINA / MEDINA

REVERB / RVMKLVNG

Excerpt from 'You can just write about the stars yourselves!' / Uddrag fra 'I kan da også bare skrive om stjernerne!'

Excerpt from The Illumination of Everything / Uddrag fra 'Illuminationen af alt'

Excerpt from 'ideal events' / Uddrag fra 'ideale begivenheder'