Tribute to weekdays

A poem by the late Danish poet, Dan Turell.  I've tried to translate it, while still making sure it makes sense.  I'm sorry if it doesn't.

I never really understood or appreciated Dan Turell's poems when I was younger. It is something that changes as you get older as you begin to understand the meaning of his poems.

I like weekdays
Most of all, I like 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 cornershop for milk, smokes, newspaper
I like 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 bisquits
A quick drink at the local
when everybody meets with their grocery bags and wipe sweat from their foreheads
I like 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 like 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 afterwards
Like a psychological hangover
that only weekday can fix with morning coffee
Great with parties!  Room for euphoria!
Let the thousand pearls bubble
But what happiness to afterwards lay down
the rest of the weekday's bed
to the known and yet unknown forecast


I like weekdays
I love them
Completely and totally love weekdays
I love weekdays very much