A poem

I was watching telly this morning. An advert came on, reminding us that speeding kills. It was an incredibly moving advert, amazingly well orchestrated. Sent shivers down my spine. It was very morbid, all in gray-scale. While a helicopter panned over the roads of Iceland with images of deceased people on the tarmac, an eerie voice sang a poem by Vatnsenda-Rósa, a very talented Icelandic lady.

I know this is terribly emotional and heavy on a Friday morning but I just was so moved! I hope you will spend a few minutes and read it... I will post it in icelandic and provide a content-translation in english, although I am aware that a lot is lost in translation. (Dum-dum-dum!)

Augað mitt og augað þitt, - - - Your eyes and my eyes,
og þá fögru steina. - - - those beautiful stones.
Mitt er þitt, og þitt er mitt, - - - Mine is yours, and yours is mine,
þú veist hvað ég meina. - - - you know what I mean.

Trega ég þig manna mest - - - I am most sad for you of all
mædd af táraflóði. - - - saddened by a flood of tears.
Ó, að við hefðum aldrei sést, - - - oh, if only we never had met,
elsku vinurinn góði. - - - my dearest friend.

Langt er síðan sá ég hann, - - - long has it been since I saw him,
sannlega fríður var hann. - - - surely he was fair.
Allt sem prýða mátti einn mann - - - all the qualities in one man
mest af lýðum bar hann. - - - he stood above the rest.

Engan leit ég eins og þann - - - None I looked upon like him
álma hreyti bjarta. - - - he shone brighter than gold.
Einn guð veit ég elskaði hann - - - I know he was loved by one god
af öllum reit míns hjarta. - - - as much as my own heart.

Þó að kali heitur hver, - - - Even if the hot spring freezes over,
hylji dali jökull ber, - - - a glacier covers the valleys,
steinar tali og allt hvað er, - - - the rocks acquire language and all imaginable things,
aldrei skal ég gleyma þér. - - - I shall never forget you.

Augað snart er tárum tært, - - - The eyes are filled with tears,
tryggð í partast mola, - - - loyalty is shattered,
mitt er hjartað sárum sært, - - - my heart is wounded,
svik er hart að þola. - - - treachery is hard to bear.

Bestan veit ég blóma þinn, - - - I know, best of all, your beauty,
blíðu innst í reitum. - - - your innermost tenderness.
Far vel, Eyjafjörður minn, - - - Fare well my Eyjafjord, (a beautiful fjord in the north of Iceland)
fegri öllum sveitum. - - - more beautiful than any.


Rósa Guðmundsdóttir
1795-1855