The Village Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Village
When I came to this small village in the interior of Algarve
there were animals’ mules and pigs and children played in
the road, barking dogs and chicken looking for worms and
I dreamt of becoming a rustic poet recording a vanishing
way of life. The change came so quick the children became
adults moved to Lisbon tractor instead of mules and we grew
old as letters of refusal piled up I married a hypochondriac
who faints when I inject insulin into my stomach.

It was not to be like this she should be by my side when
I received prizes and the applause was for her to enjoy.
I thought it would be easy people would buy my work go
and be more moral and my poetry would be jewels of love.
Balderdash! The truth is I`m happy to be alive the dream
belonged to someone else an idiot I used to know,