THE SEVENTEENTH BALLAD

THE SEVENTEENTH BALLAD

by Evert Taube

Translated from the Swedish by Sandra Dermark

Gothenburg, 12th of August 2015
under the sign of Leo
and in the best of all possible moods.

Dedicated to Mona Utsten,
and to María Calzada.

It's really hard, I confess, to agree,

with one who begs me to amuse him singing

and flatters me before th' auditory,

but whose backstabbing whispers I hear ringing.

It's really hard to accept and drink his wine...

I put the cup to my lips hesitating...

He boasts he's payed for all the celebrating,

and, behind my back, he calls me a swine!

But I am free, you old and wicked fox,

and you, Your Ladyship, with all your cackle...

I'm free to sing for you, old poppycocks.

With poetry, your balderdash I tackle.

I drink your health now with the gods, with all,

and bring the angel of peace down even quicker,

after I show you who has held her liquor,

and told you the truth, and saved my soul.

Because the truth is healthy, and it is true

that if one in this land defies tradition,

not chirping constantly like chicks like you,

like all the others in their superstition,

but walks one's own way, on one's own two feet,

forgetting common sense, worshipping beauty,

some old hen cackles always about duty

and about being dreadfully indiscrete.

But cackle you tomorrow! For today,

the chance is mine: I'll sing a louder din, nice:

"Cock-a-doodl-doo! Your Lordship, pleased you may!"

For you, I've put my life upon the thin ice.

Think more of happiness than wealth or gold,

for you've got many ways to stay elated...

E'en if that I've sung intoxicated

is as my eternal reputation told!

I stand alone, though in good company,

and that by right, since my own path I follow.

The light and the goal day by day I see,

far from all of these bottles that I swallow.

And thus, by tunes of silver cords amused,

by voices only known to poets' hearing,

I forget all small trifles and all jeering...

and, proud, drink to the health of my own Muse!