Icelandic lullaby - Halldór Kiljan Laxness

I shall wake and be good

to my friends small,

while fear runs red

the blue peaks flush

and Harpa sings a song of spring

on the grey harp leaf.

 

Sometimes in the winter past

weather beat the window;

was it not, just for a time,

as if wraithes hid in every shadow?

Few knew that spring awaited

and the spring comes to comfort.

 

Some they left before Christmas

moved out of the country,

comfortless, around the world

houses they build on sand.

In other lands no shelter find

endless storm a-raging.

 

It is clearly hollow joy

for those who are outcasted.

No sun rise above the peaks

over dewey footprints.

There they see no little lamb

or moss campion in springtime.

 

It´s better then for bairns to be

by the village brook-let

in the field where the colt is.

The grey of two winters

I will, my friend, give to you

and her foal so swift.

 

And if, my darling, dreams you dream

of Oslo and of Rome.

A winged horse that gallops and shines,

gallops and shines so greatly,

then I will give you just for fun

your fare with sugar and cream.

 

As she gave you Iceland´s blood,

my young and clever dreamer

may at last this nation small

dry away your teardrops,

while Harpa sings a song of spring

upon the harp leaf.

---

Halldór Kiljan Laxness (1902 - 1998) Iceland

Translated by Hallgrímur Helgason

Source: Babelmatrix