*Scroll for English translation
For noget tid siden da jeg var ude at gå, kom der to vers til et digt. I dag da jeg tilfældigt fandt det i mine noter, kom der to mere.
For mig var det blot en fortælling om det, at møde en fra sin fortid. Hvordan det til tider kan være akavet og føles uvirkeligt at man engang har kendt hinanden. At folk ikke altid, måske endda sjældent, er dem de var engang.
Men da jeg læste det op for en, blev jeg beriget med en anden vinkel. For digtet handler måske mest af alt om det psykiske møde med tidligere versioner af sig selv, gennem det fysiske møde med andre der repræsenterer en bestemt tid.
Jeg holder meget af, at blive klogere på de ord der kommer til mig og jeg elsker, at jeg kan blive det gennem andre. Det bevidner blot det, jeg egentlig allerede godt ved, at det ikke er meningen at de skal ende ved mig. Jeg er blot formidleren, enhver kan være fortolker eller modtager.
Jeg ved endnu ikke, hvad titlen på digtet er, så indtil videre kalder jeg det;
Nogen vi tror, vi kender
Jeg ved ikke, hvem jeg var
Kender ikke den version af mig selv mer’
Nu står jeg foran dig
Sjovt, at jeg sådan pludselig skulle møde dig her
Jeg husker lidt af det, der skete
men alligevel ikke rigtig noget
Ja, faktisk langt fra det hele
der blev sagt gang på gang og misforstået
Vi er langt fra dem, vi var
Og dog så lurer de derinde
springer frem og står på vagt
Vidner om, at fortiden ej vil forsvinde
Den eksisterer i vort sind
I maven der vender
Når vi atter engang
Møder nogen vi tror, vi kender
English Translation:
Some time ago when I was out walking, two verses for a poem came to me. Today when I happened to find it in my notes two more came.
For me it was just a story about meeting someone from one’s past. How it can sometimes be awkward and feel unreal that you once knew each other. That people are not always, maybe even rarely, who they once were.
But when I read it to someone, I was enriched with a different angle. Because the poem is perhaps most of all about the mental meeting with previous versions of oneself, through the physical meeting with others who represent a certain time in the past.
I really like to learn more about the words that come to me and I love that I can do that through others. It just proves what I actually already know, that they are not meant to end with me. I am just the mediator, anyone can be an interpreter or receiver.
I don’t yet know what the title of the poem is, so for now I’ll call it;
Someone we think we know
I do not know who I was
I do not know that version of myself anymore
Now I stand before you
Funny, how I should suddenly meet you here
I remember a little of what happened
but still nothing really
Well, actually far from all
that was said and time and again misunderstood
We are far from who we were
And yet they lurk in there
jumps forward and stands guard
As evidence that the past will not disappear
It exists in our mind
In the stomach that turns
When we once again
Meet someone we think we know
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