cimorene

the world is a little room
eva dahlgren

oh, sometimes i wonder
about if i had been born elsewhere,
in another country, with another name.

i might have been brunette
and not especially tall,
and fat, and my voice could have been shrill and crazy,
so it sounded like hell when i tried to sing.

i wonder what i would have done then?
i might have been taken in someone's arms
and loved my way through the day
but even so had the same dreams as
the woman who lives her life in stockholm.

oh, i wonder sometimes
about if i had been born in africa -
another light, another rhythm,
and i might never have found my way,
and all the gifts i was born with
could have lain dead in my body
and i would have understood nothing
about anything around me.

i wonder what i would have done then?
i might have turned to the wild animals
and built my house in a huge forest
but even there had the same dreams as
the woman who lives her life in stockholm.

and in all the things that i wonder
there's only one thing that i need to know,
because you have your life here,
and if i knew that,
i would have to go out and look,
and out of thousands and thousands of people
i would recognise you, and say:
"beloved, come. here i am."

i'm made to wonder sometimes
when i meet some poor child
who looks like i did back then,
with hair all frizzy and thin,
awkward on too-long legs
and with ears like satellite dishes.

yes, when that happens i get dizzy
because life becomes so incredibly large then
and the world shrinks to a little room
and the human soul becomes as huge as the universe.

because just think that still
i happened to become
the woman who lives my life in stockholm.

jorden är ett litet rum