The Liar

By Martin A. Hansen

SUNDAY night was the spring ball at the Headlands. All the evening I expected Oluf to turn up, like the joker in a game of cards.
   But late on Sunday afternoon, as it was turning dark, I was sitting here in my room, thinking over what had happened. I had hoped for a quiet afternoon so that I could toy with my new idea of writing about Sandö. Instead, there was nothing but disturbance and trouble.
That´s how it is with us, Nathanael. One looks forward to a little peace, a little peace and quietness to oneself, but what happens? I give up! I will look for peace no longer, my friend, not real peace. I will impose upon myself no longer, instead I will choose to expect unrest and discord.

The raven flies at even,
It may not fly by day.
It is a bird of ill luck,
No good can come its way.

But perhaps you´ve already seen through my little game, Nathanael, and are amused by it? You say: "Look here, Johannes, you´re deceiving yourself again, already! You´re led away by an old rhyme. You say you will choose to expect unrest and emotional discord, but wait until tomorrow, when you´re in a different mood! You will sit back again and become the tourist in life, the guest of the moment, hoping again for peace and quiet. Just wait and see!"


Martin A. Hansen: The Liar
Quartet Books 1986

Translated by John Jepson Egglishaw