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MORGUNN / MORNING
Lítil fugl í leyni
lúrir undir steini.
Kveður senn sitt næturskjól.
Lítil sála læðist,
ljós í fjarska glæðist,
gáir móti morgunsól.
Dvínar dalalæða
dormar milli hæða.
Fagnar sólu sérhvert blóm.
Ljómi lautir baðar,
lítil hjörtu hraðar
slá við lífsins bjarta hljóm.
Ljósið loga kveikir,
lifnar sálin tætt og köld.
Mætir nýjum degi.
Hugur hýrnar, vaknar,
heimurinn sindrar, allt er nýtt.
Sólin faðm út breiðir,
umvefur allt.
Háa yfir hnjúka
himins fingur strjúka.
Morgunglóðin heilsar hlý.
Ský af himni hopar
hörfa daggardropar.
Fagnar degi veröld ný.
Ljósið loga kveikir,
lifnar sálin tætt og köld.
Mætir nýjum degi.
Hugur hýrnar, vaknar,
heimurinn sindrar, allt er nýtt.
Sólin faðm út breiðir,
umvefur allt.
ENGLISH TRANSLATION:
A little bird secretly
cuddles beneath a stone.
Soon it will leave it's nightly shelter.
A little soul quietly,
as the light wakes in the distance,
looks towards the morning sun.
The valley mist wanes,
slumbers between hills.
Every flower greets the sun.
The glow bathes the hills,
little hearts beat faster,
to the bright music of life.
The light wakes the flames,
the soul, so tattered and cold comes a live
and meets the new day.
The mind gladdens, awakens,
the world sparkles, everything is new.
The sun opens its arms.
Embraces all.
The tall peaks of mountains
are caressed by the fingers of heaven.
The morning glow greets warmly.
A cloud retreats from the sky,
as dewdrops withdraw.
And a new world celebrates the day.
The light wakes the flames,
the soul, so tattered and cold comes a live
and meets the new day.
The mind gladdens, awakens,
the world sparkles, everything is new.
The sun opens its arms.
Embraces all.
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Janúar
Myrkrið gleypir allt.
En undir snjó með rammri kaldri ró
rumskar janúar,
Rymur hljótt og gyrðir sig í brók
Ýfða yglir brá,
Augu pírð í átt að kaldri sól.
„Þessi fjandi dugar skammt!
Hún liggur flöt en skal á loft!“
Ó janúar, sem enginn ann.
Hve dýrðlegt er þitt vanþakkláta starf?
Sólin rís með hægð,
en bak við tjöldin böðlast Janúar.
Eins og rótari
eða ruslakall á mánudagsmorgni.
Ó janúar, sem enginn ann.
Hve dýrðlegt er þitt vanþakkláta starf?
Og eftir allt, sem hann gaf.
Janúar skríður aftur undir feld.
Þar til skyldan kallar enn á ný,
Eins og snæviþakinn Batman.
Ó janúar, sem enginn ann.
Hve dýrðlegt er þitt vanþakkláta starf
Ég man þig janúar. Ég sé þig janúar.
English translation:
January
Darkness swallows all,
But beneath the snow with stoic, cold resolve.
January stirs.
With a quiet grunt pulls up his pants.
Scowls with a furrowed brow,
piercing eyes towards a freezing sun.
„This disaster will not do!
It lies so flat, but must rise.“
Oh January, the month least loved.
How glorious is your thankless work?
The sun rises gently.
But behind the scenes old January strives.
Like a roadie after the show
or a garbageman on his monday morning shift.
Oh January, the month least loved.
How glorious is your thankless work?
And after all that he gave
,
January crawls back beneath his fur.
Until duty calls him forth once more,
like a snow-covered Batman.
Oh January, the month least loved.
How glorious is your thankless work?
I know you January,
I see you January.
The sun rises gently, in january.
Darkness swallows all, in january.
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The Hurting
Broken glass,
Torn up curtains
I feel it in my heart
Here comes the hurting.
She’s a crocodile,
Under the surface
She greets me with a smile
Here comes the hurting
She knows my soul
And She knows it’s troubles.
I kept it in the hole
but here comes the hurting
She come slow,
But She comes for certain
She never lets me go
Here comes the hurting.
Everybody’s got a devil to drag.
Everybody’s got some dirt in their bag.
Show me how to hold a shattered heart.
I did wrong
Got no excuses
I’ve held on for too long,
And here comes the hurting.
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Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit
There isn't any other stair quite like it
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top
So this is the stair where I always stop
Halfway up the stairs isn't up and isn't down
It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town
And all sorts of funny thoughts run 'round my head
It isn't really anywhere, it's somewhere else instead
Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit
There isn't any other stair quite like it
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top
So this is the stair where I always stop.
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