My absolute favourite Swedish poet is Gustaf Fröding (1860 – 1911). This brilliant poet and author’s short life was darkened with mental illness. Both his own and his parents. Perhaps this is evidence that brilliance and folly dances on a razor sharp edge.

He is still a popular poet in Sweden. The poems are highly musical and lends itself to musical setting. He is one the poets with the highest number of his poems that have been set to music. Many of them topping the charts for weeks on.

Many of his brilliant poems are written in the melodic dialect from his home province Värmland. In my mind the most beautiful Swedish dialect. Even if a person with this dialect is really angry with you it sounds like a declaration of love. The dialect is often a challenge to understand by Swedish speakers and then to translate to English!

Even so an Englishman named Mike McArthur took on the task with Frödings most loved poems. He did an excellent job and to that I’m glad to be able to share one of the poems in English. This poem was a great comfort to me when I lost my son four years ago.

Solace

When comes deep sorrow, as when night descending
in wildest forests, where man goes astray,
who trusts the glimmer, which ahead is wending,
the light that peeps out, flickers, hides away?
In fun it flickered, in fun fled this caper,
who takes a Jack o'lantern for a taper?

No, grieve till in the brain the numbness creeping
in weary torpor, is the solace found
- just like the wanderer, who was lost and sleeping
of soft and mossy down, a sleep so sound.
And when from misty depths he wakes from dreaming,
sees in the wooded hide the morn sun gleaming.