Lag: Herbert H. Ágústsson
Texti: Steinn Steinarr
Snjór
Snjór, snjór.
Brimhvít mjöll.
Eins og frosin lík af ljósum,
eins og haf af hvítum rósum
hylur mjöllin spor þín öll.
Veslings maður, veslings maður!
Víst er sorg þín nóg.
Þú átt máske auðnu þína
undir snjó.
Og þú ratar varla veginn,
vanans troðnu slóð.
Og þér reynist þraut að þekkja
þína eigin lóð.
Snjór, snjór.
Brimhvít mjöll.
Eins og frosin lík af ljósum,
eins og haf af hvítum rósum,
hylur mjöllin spor þín öll.
Der Schnee
Schnee, Schnee.
Ein brandungweisser Neuschnee.
Wie gefrorene Lichtleichen
wie ein See von weissen Rosen
hüllt der Neuschnee all deine Spuren.
Du armer mann, armer mann !
Sicher hast du Sorgen genug.
Vielleich liegt dein Glück
unter dem Schnee.
Und du kennst kaum den Weg,
obwohl du oft da warst.
Und es fällt dir schwer dein
eigenes Land zu finden.
Schnee, Schnee.
Ein brandungweisser Neuschsnee
wie gefrorene Lichtleichen,
wie ein Schnee von weissen Rosen,
hüllt der Neuschnee all deine Spuren.
Übers. Elísabet Erlingsdóttir
The Snow
Snow, snow. A white loose snow.
Like the frozen corpses of light,
like an ocean of white roses,
The loose snow is covering all your
foodsteps.
Poor man, poor man !
Surely you have enough sorrow.
Most likely your property is
under the snow.
And you hardly know the way you
used to go. And it was hard to recognise your own home.
Snow, snow. A white loose snow.
Like the frozen corpses of light,
like an ocean of white roses,
The loose snow is covering all your
foodsteps.
Transl. Elísabet Erlingsdóttir