This is a poem by the late Danish writer and poet, Dan Turell aka Uncle Danny.

This is a feeble attempt to translate Danish into English and still keep the deeper meaning and message in his poem about the weekday (hverdagen).

When I was a young boy and teenager, he was alive and a great influence on Danish literature.  I doubt many people outside Denmark knew him, most likely because of the lack of social media back then and probably because all his work was written in Danish.

Uncle Danny loved Copenhagen, its life, its noise and perhaps especially the little stories, that lurked everywhere.  This love for the city is portrayed in many of his stories.

I never really understood or appreciated Dan Turell’s poems when I was younger. We read many of his pieces in school, and I did attempt to read a few of his crime novels in my early twenties.

It is something that changes as you get older, and as you begin to understand the meaning of his poems.

Now, we sit inside our first world prisons, waiting for this devilish virus to slow down and for governments to allow people to enjoy their God-given freedoms, we get to ponder and read more.

I, therefore, want to share this wonderful poem by this great writer.  Thank you, Dan!

Hopefully, I’ve inspired someone out there to dig into Danish literature and explore the writing and messages that can offer glimpses of hope.

I enjoy the weekdays
Most of all, I enjoy the weekdays
Slowly waking up to familiar views
that are not entirely familiar
The family once trustworthy and sleepy and distant strange faces
The morning kisses
The mailman slamming the letterbox
The smell of coffee
The routine walk to the corner shop for milk, smokes, newspaper
I enjoy the weekdays
Even through all the irritations
The noisy bus that drives past the door
The phone that disturbs the most beautiful, clearest still moment in my aquarium
The birds squeaking in their cage
The old neighbor looking
The kid you have to pick up in the creche, just as you got started
The everlasting grocery list in the pocket
with the usual requirements for meat, potatoes, coffee, and biscuits
A quick drink at the local
when everybody meets with their grocery bags and wipe sweat from their foreheads
I enjoy the weekdays
The daily agenda
even the biological agenda
The unavoidable routines in the bath and on the toilet
The mandatory shave
Letters you need to write
Rent payments
Balancing the accounts
Dishes
The fact that you ran out of diapers or cello-tape
I enjoy the weekdays
Not in contrast to parties, smokes, and dancing
That has to be done
even with all the leftovers
So much unsaid or approached
hanging in the air afterward
Like a psychological hangover
that only a weekday can fix with morning coffee
Great with parties!  Room for euphoria!
Let the thousand pearls bubble
But what happiness to lay down afterward
the rest of the weekday’s bed
to the known and yet unknown forecast
I enjoy the weekdays
I love them
Completely and totally love the weekdays
I love the weekdays very much