I told them I had hoped

I told them I had hoped
for a prophet
and that he would overturn the decrees
and when the prophet won
the sick would grow more sick
the healthy more healthy
and a church would no longer be needed
nor a sickhouse

I was not the sick but the prophet
and I was not the prophet
but the twofold person
who held his hands in front of him
Now and then someone stroked my arms
it was my mother and my father and they smiled
because inside my eyelids a congregation stood ready
to lay me down or lift me up

I told them I had hoped

Jeg fortalte dem at jeg hadde et håp
om en profet
og at han kom til å velte forordningene
og når profeten vinner
blir den syke sykere
den friske friskere
og det trengs ikke lenger noen kirke
eller sykehus

Jeg var ikke den syke, men profeten
og jeg var ikke profeten
men det doble mennesket
som holdt hendene framfor seg
Av og til strøk noen meg langs armene
det var mor og far og de smilte
for innenfor øyelokkene sto en forsamling klar
til å legge meg ned eller løfte meg opp