Garden of Trauma/Traumehagen

GARDEN OF TRAUMA

I know all the plants

living and growing

in my Garden of Trauma.

Flowers beautiful,

thorns sharp,

and I can handle the sight of blood.

Wandering in the Garden of Trauma,

I collect knowledge about the plants that grow here.

Their poison, their medicine.

Like sharp-tailed scorpions

they poke holes

in any new or old boil.

The rotting and the sprouting.

Tombstones covered in moss

and framed by wild bushes.

It sleeps and grows in restless symbiosis.

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TRAUMEHAGEN

Jeg kjenner til alle de vekster

som bor og gror

i mn Traumehage.

Blomster vakre,

torner skarpe,

og jeg tåler å se blod.

Vandrende i Traumehagen,

samler jeg kunnskap om vekstene som gror her.

Deres gifter, deres medisin.

Som skorpioner med skarpe haler

stikker de hull

på enhver ny eller gammel byll.

Det råtne og det spirende.

Mosegrodde gravstener

omgitt av ville buskas.

Det sover og gror i en hvileløs symbiose.

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