An old poem

Ok, so i wrote this poem what...17 years ago. Its my first poem. I will translate into english first and then give the Swedish original.

Walked on the bridge
Saw him sitting there, waiting
Walked with death
Saw him await my every breath
His thought where that they would perhaps seize to be
He helped through the forest
I laid down to sleep
Was rustled by words
I could not remember the words, so i left


Gick på bron
Såg honom sitta, väntandes
Gick med döden
Såg honom vänta på mina andetag
Hans taknke var att dom skulle kanske upphöra
Han hjälpte genom skogen
La mig för att sova
Väcktes av ord
Dom gick inte minnas, så jag gick




Well thats it. Why it is that i came to walk this way, i can only guess, for i did not consciously choose it, and i would not tell someone to walk this way. Although i know some still do, like my brother. Although i know some still do, like my father. Although i know peoples of old who find water and livestock, who walked this way.