Akilles ursinne

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En krönika om en ung mans uppgång och fall.

We cut our way through forests, crossed on frozen streams
They fell away before us like a murmur in a dream
And they burned the land around us as snow was closing in
And the arms of winter took us as we fired against the wind

The coldest winter in memory was 1709 
The sea froze off the coast of France all along the Neptune line
By the lost town of Dunwich the shore was washed away
They say you hear the church bells still as they toll beneath the waves

In memory of those who never came home in that war where 10% of all Swedes in the world perished, yet the country still stood.

My first tattoo, made 2 years ago.

Oh lord of heaven be on our side;
and in our northern land abide;
as thou did in ancient times.
Look to the bravery again;
Of the Swedish king and his men;
And let your spirit rest on our shores;
in the lands of the north.

Rolling a “1” for armour save! >=(

People whispered, what was their reason?
And who did it, can someone say?
Free us from all evil;
Prayed Sweden the next day.

From the danish song “To skud i Stockholm” (Two shots in Stockholm).  About the murder of Olof Palme, prime minister of Sweden.

Man hvisked’ hvad var det for grunde
og hvem i alverden stod bag
fri os fra det onde
bad Sverige den næste dag

"Gentlemen! (Hold me, you pigs!) Our sun (Gustav III) was drenched in blood, but has risen again to shine in another world, for by thousand devils was not Gustav a beam of the eternal light!  The image I’ve made of him is but trash, but we keep his image in our hearts and there it will live for as long as we have a single drop of blood in our veins. A toast to Gustav III, our father and benefactor!"  - Johan Tobias Sergel, at the unveiling of his statue of the Swedish king Gustav III.

Nyet!

Dies iræ! Dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla!

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando iudex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

So then I lay in hiding
Till my stepmother came riding.

By the bridgehead I lay watching
Till I saw her horse approaching.
And as she passed I caught her
And down from her horse I brought her.

Through blood, screams and nightly gloom
I tore the child from her womb
And when i had drunk my brother’s blood,
I became a knight, gallant and good.

- A rough translation of a swedish medieval song about a man being transformed into a wolf by his stepmother, and taking cruel vengeance on her.

I saw so many young men I’de known before;
Who from the bay of Viborg came home no more