Der vil aldrig blive en anden som dig
by Dan Turèll
There will never be another like you, never another like you. Never. Although there will be many, I know that, here where we part. There will be many. Many to walk hand in hand with along the beach. Many to meet in bars in the early hours. Many to go home with, or to take home and lie sweating or gasping over or under. And sweat and gasp will be the same, but there will never be another like you. Never another like you.
To love of you, to love you, I love you still. I loved you long. I have loved you so long. I have loved you as long as I can remember. I will love you for all time to come. I would have loved you still. I would have could ought should love you, longer yet. Always. Even the simplest grammar you make ominous.
There will never be another like you. There will be others. And a lot could happen between me and them. Maybe I will marry others. Breed children and buy a house with others. Sit and eat breakfast and have coffee, toast, and orange juice at the kitchen table every morning with others. And watch TV programmes in the evening together with others. But all the same I will never be able to forget you.
There will never be another like you. Never another like you. You who are now sitting at another breakfast table. With coffee and toast, after lying gasping under another last night, another who maybe doesn’t even know how well toasted you want your bread. And I will always long for you. And always try to picture to myself where you are now. How you look in this moment. And what you’re doing.
There will never be another like you, I know that, here where we part. And in that way you’ll always be there.
Copyright © the estate of Dan Turèll. The translation is my own.
Images: the first and last are from Bo Bedre’s Idébog by Ellen Bisgaard, © Forlaget Palle Fogtdal 1967, and the second, third and fourth are from Danmarks Bygningskultur (Vol. 2) by Harald Langberg, Gyldendalske Boghandel - Nordisk Forlag 1955.