Dialog i Mariagränd [English translation]

She sat there in the moonlight, pale and alone

in the alley, among clay and stone.

In torn clothing and with unkempt hair

and with naked, blue frozen legs.

Her eyes stared right through the darkness

at the wall around.

She whispered with torn lips;

Oh God, what have I done?

Welcome here, my young man.

Certainly you haven't done anything wrong?

You smile so satisfied although you are standing here in sorrow,

but perhaps you have drunk some.

I see on your face and your clothes

that you don't belong here.

Your clothes are new, your shoes are so fine

and your skin is so beautiful and white.

Why do you sit on the ground and freeze?

I said and staggered.

I see that you tremble and you shudder.

Is that really what you want?

I know a place where we can go,

I am as lonely as you.

Although I have money and you have nothing

we are together right now.

Oh there you are wrong, my young friend.

I am not alone, just cold.

There are many who have as little as me.

and some have nothing at all.

No, I sit on the ground because my legs are tired,

and I shake from weeping.

But for the sorrow I feel and the aching in my body

your money can't do anything for me.

So I sat down on the ground next to her,

and she was beautiful and fair as a witch.

And the subway closed and we heard the last train

take off and disappear from the station.

I slept under the sky clear of stars,

and when I woke she had gone,

But in my hand I held a little piece of paper

with the woman's address which I got.

Now I am back where I belong

in my 8 cubic meter room.

Now it is only walls which meet my voice,

but the concrete is deaf and dumb.

Today I took the freedom I stole

after ten days in the snow.

Four pairs of dogs and nine guns

came when I ran over the lake.

So I am sitting here, without sun or stars,

and the time can be whatever.

And I think about women, and whisky and Jesus,

and Lenin and Marx's manifesto.

And I think about the law which lets a homeless one's

life just run out,

when at the same time it protects the criminals which

soon see that our air is gone,

I have stolen and robbed and run and been captured.

Therefore I sit here,

among those who have cheated their people with millions

living in Basel and Bern.

But I think to escape as long as I live,

one cannot not live like a dog.

And one day will come when the truth wins,

as true as the earth is round.

Before when one was not branded as dangerous,

one could sometimes come out.

in the farm and talk with the others,

and unite around a new decision.

But one betrayed the trust so many times

as I have had time for,

so it is safest for the country, for God, and for the king

that one is held in isolation.

I wonder sometimes if those who have the funds

to pay my food and my bed,

when so many of them are released out from here

so soon are back again.

How dare they call this care

when one is forced to live an artificial life.

And what do they really mean with rehabilitation

when you are humiliated here the whole time.

When one sits like I have all the time

in the world to think about

that in spite of that one lives his life in a bunker

there is always a chance to go.

And it saves sanity that one lives with feelings

that you soon can be free.

But what will happen when someone decides

that next time they take one's life?

I talk often about revolution

in my letters to you.

And I do my best to get

the others to unite.

Because we are still of the kind

both worker and thief.

We are all the same as those who have money,

but vengeance becomes a double delight.

But now I leave you here, my poor woman

which is my only hope.

Although I scarcely know who you are or are like,

someone recognizes my words.

It is hard to reach you when I am out

Yes, it is hard to have time.

And if you no longer will have my torment

give my letter to someone else.

And if you no longer want to have my torment

give my letter to someone else.

• Artist:Björn Afzelius
• Album:Vem är det som är rädd? (1974)