Lovely dreams about a reasonable world
Waking up this morning, I have a few blissful seconds of serenity before a deep feeling of gloom washes over me, like an unstoppable wave. The sadness and anger over what’s happening in the world, our world, my world, fills every crevice of my half-awake mind, and I struggle to find the strength to not just give in and give up.
Suddenly, a melody from the past finds its way into my consciousness. The song “Var blev ni av, ljuva drömmar om en rimligare jord“ (Where did you go, lovely dreams about a reasonable world) with Swedish text written by Hans Alfredsson and Tage Danielsson, humanists and masters of political satire, was featured in one of their shows in the mid-1970s, another era of political turmoil. Beautifully rendered by Monica Zetterlund, she first expresses disappointment that the promises of Swedish social democracy had not been fulfilled as originally hoped at the start of the workers movement. This is followed by a disillusionment with the state of the world – but then comes a key phrase, providing that little glimmer of hope. In spite of everything, she sings, one way may be “even when the wind blows cold, to persist believing what we believed in”. Like so many others before me, I believe in freedom from oppression and basic human rights to a dignified and fulfilled life, and persist, I thought, is what I need to do, stick to my conviction that a reasonable world must be a possibility, and do my bit to make it happen. If all of us who believe in humanity actively resist the dark forces and make our contributions of goodness, however small they may seem, surely we can turn at least some lovely dreams into reality!
You who wear the red star on your spring jacket lapel, answer me
All marches on Labour day towards the land of happiness
Answer a question from a friend who lost faith
When will they reach their destination?
Where did you go, lovely dreams about a reasonable world
A new way of living? Was it just empty words?
Where are they now, all those who claimed they had all the answers
But let us down and chose the power?
They are still there
The goddess of freedom stands on guard in New York harbour
If you have a dollar you’ll have a place in her arms
She who had peace and freedom as her proud goal
Such a pity that her head was a hole
Where did you go, lovely dreams about a reasonable world
She aids oppression by lending it her sword
Where are they now, all the lice from the dark night of barbarism
The corporals of fascism? Well, they sit where they were
We who have been made to live in the era of disappointment
What do we do now? What language shall we speak?
One way may be, even when the wind blows cold, to persist
Believing what we believed in
Where did you go, lovely dreams about a reasonable world
A new way of living? Was it just empty words?
Where is he now, the glowing defender of our dreams of freedom?
He’s still moving, so maybe he’s not really dead…
Unauthorised translation by Marie Lindquist, March 2022
Svara, du med röda stjärnan på din vårkavaj
Alla tåg som går mot lyckans land på första maj
Svara på en fråga från en vän som tappat tron
När är de framme vid sin slutstation?
Var blev ni av, ljuva drömmar om en rimligare jord
Ett nytt sätt att leva? Var det bara tomma ord?
Var är de nu, de som påstod att dom hade alla svar
Men svek alla oss och valde makten? De är kvar
Frihetens gudinna står på vakt i New Yorks hamn
Om du har en dollar får du rum i hennes famn
Hon som hade fred och frihet som sitt stolta mål
Så synd att hennes huvud var ett hål
Var blev ni av, ljuva drömmar om en rimligare värld?
Hon hjälper förtrycket med att låna det sitt svärd
Var är de nu, alla löss från barbariets dunkla natt
Fascismens korpraler? Jo, de sitter där de satt
Vi som satts att leva i besvikelsens epok
Ja, vad gör vi nu? Vad ska vi tala på för språk?
Ett sätt är att även om det blåser lite kallt
Tro på det vi trodde på – trots allt!
Var blev ni av, ljuva drömmar om en rimligare jord
Ett nytt sätt att leva? Var det bara tomma ord?
Var är han nu, våra frihetsdrömmars junker Morgonröd?
Han rör ju på sig, så han är nog inte riktigt död…
Swedish text Hans Alfredsson & Tage Danielsson, February 1976