Nóttin bregđur lit
er stíga stjörnur dansinn
á dimmum himni.
Stjörnubjarminn dvín
er morgunn siglir ađ storđ
gullslegnum seglum.
Náttregniđ kveđur
taktfast á ţakinu óđ
fuglsnef undir vćng.
Einu skrefi nćr
er mađur guđi sínum
viđ fagra hugsun.
Enn tifar klukkan
á veggnum sinn hćga söng
ţótt hratt fljúgi stund.
Heitt te á könnu
silkidúkur á borđi
ađeins tveir bollar.
Ţar sem ţögn ríkir
blómstrar hugsun eins og rós
fagran sumardag.
Heimurinn er stór
en fćtur ţínir smáir
—leggđu samt í ´ann.
Snigill á spretti
hleypur á sína vísu
skógur ađ baki.
Blóm í haga vex
dafnar í sumarblíđu
farđu ţér hćgt haust.
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Night shifts its colours
when stars step forth dancing
on the dark heaven.
Gleam of stars dwindles
when the morning hails the shore
with golden sails.
Nightrain sings an ode
rhythmically on the roof
bird´s beak under wing.
Little bit closer
to his maker is a man
whit thought of beauty.
Still yet the clock ticks
its gentle song on the wall
although time flies fast.
Hot tea in the pot
a silk cloth on the table
just a pair of cups.
Where quietude raigns
thought flourishes like a rose
one fair summer´s day.
The world is quite large
but your feet are rather small.
All the same set out.
A snail moving fast
for his size he is running
forest left behind.
A
wild flower grows
flourishes in the summer.
Autumn don´t hurry!
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