The Foever Tourist Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The forever tourist

He woke up at two o´clock in the morning
he had to take a train to the main city at four
his wife said the train didn´t run on Saturdays or Sundays
he ignored that she wanted to sleep a bit longer.
The main city was full of soldiers who spoke in a guttural tongue there was no place at the inn,
but a porter found a sofa for him in the hall
where soldiers and whores came and left during the night.
Cigarette smoke and perfume was like a fog in the hall dancing to the tune of
the activities in the rooms.
He got up early for breakfast then borrowed a pair of skis
it had been snowing in in the night still was, big heavy flakes
fell silently covering the sinful life at the inn, in a blanket
of forgiveness.
As a high-ranking officer, he was going to a staff meeting
the enemy had occupied it and shot the guards defending
the castle-like building.
In front of him a tall mountain he began climbing.
At the top, he could see the forever and a bit more and saw a beautiful valley with lakes and palm trees.
He skied down the mountain so fast he could not stop until
he fell into a lake of white wine and drank a mouthful
of the nectar.
The high-ranking officer had found his Paradise and to hell
with the war fought on the other side of the mountain.