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~ Historical & Classical Poetry ~


With thanks from my heart
with hat in hand
in thoughts I stand by your grave,
you mighty chief
from the hard land
far out there west in the sea.

For when it awakens
a Norway
From town to Mountain
we thank first
of all men
Snorre Sturlasson

We had forgotten
our mothers and fathers both
Ourselves we had forgotten;
We had forgotten,
that we where once,
if you had not hidden.

We gave away
our inherritance
and lost it treasure by treassure;
You collected it
in the chest full
and then you gave it back.

When Norway let go
of it own steering board
and lost its way so terrible,
then you showed us
where we once fared,
and then we steared true

Where geysir roared,
and Hekla shook,
there your holy call
to make timber
for the new floor
in Norway's own hall.

When we build here
in confident faith
and safeguard a home in our land,
then you are there
with us at work, you,
stand with pointing hand.

And when you here wakes
a Norway
from keel and west to sea:
our thanks, you greatest
of Icelands men,
and again
thank you where you rest!

Per Sivle (1857-1904)
translation from Norwegian by Rune
Bjųrnsen, Heišingja žing

Image: Detail from a drawing with Idun and Bragi.