#norsk
Black stone juts out over greying ice,
A mass of alpine greenery,
Half bare, half masked in white;
The motion of a turner painting,
Colours cast through Lowry's eyes.
Camouflaged upon a riverside
With no sign of Lutheran ambition,
As faith faltered, medieval to Christ,
A small church modestly mirages,
Casting simplicity into Nordic pride.
The excitement of the northern lights
Over the precipice of these continents,
American and Eurasian plates collide.
The Langjökull Glacier screams
Witnessing its own untimely demise.
The remoteness captured in the landscape
Starkly contrasts to us who bear witness to it
And in the mirroring of the landscape
A lonely civil dwelling knows nothing
Of war between nature and humankind.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
Stå fram, du, som skjules i mørket.
Stå fram inn i verden.
Det kan være uhyggelig;
Det kan være urolig;
Det kan oppvekke gru innafor deg
som du ikke visste var til;
Det kan føles som om jordas lunger
puster deg inn og spytter deg ut;
Men sånt har det alltid vært.
En vismann har sagt før:
Syn uten handling er kun en drøm.
Handling uten syn fordriver tiden.
Syn med handling kan forandre verden.
Reis deg opp; ta på livet, grip tilværelse,
møt folk, snakk språk, drøm sagn,
bygg ting, slå deg ned, få barn,
les, gråt, le, rop, løp, hopp, ta feil, gå deg vill;
så blir ekte tilfredstillelse til.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
Jeg vekker verden for tiden går: våkn opp
Vi kan være borte i morgen: stå opp
Jeg vekker verden, fordi jeg vil gi bort det jeg har,
I morgen kan vi miste den gaven
For hver dag er vi nærmere slutten
Som kan være starten av en ny begynnelse.
Så finn det stedet, din mening, din egen bølge,
Gi bort hjertet, gi bort alt,
Elsk,respekter andre, drøm,
Vær kul, vis verden at du er noen
Dag etter dag, tiden stopper ikke,
Jeg lever og vil oppleve hvert minutt.
Verdens farger i mitt blod,
Folkets **** med morgendagens luft,
Jeg skal vekke dere: Carpe Diem.
Stå opp med ordene på tunga, jeg lever
Fra nå av, ikke fra i morgen, fra nå av,
Har jeg ikke tid til å kaste tiden bort,
Skriv livets manus selv, og visk den aldri ut.
Alle har en vei å gå, alle er noen,
Og med hevet hode bærer de stolt sitt kors,
De kan lære deg å tro, vise deg vei.
Ikke vær redd for å kjempe for tilværelsen,
ikke vær redd for nederlag.
Jeg vekker verden, det er min vei,
Mitt oppdrag, min mening.
Så jeg sier nå til dere alle:
“Opplev hver dag, og bruk din gave.”
Og hvis du tror på kjærlighet,
Sørg for at den er gjensidig,
Sammen stå opp og se alltid samme vei,
Vær sammen til døden skiller dere ad.
DET er gaven.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
nå gi meg etterglød liksom månen
gi meg elsker
gi meg en brann å brenne
og brenne kjærlighet inn min tuppene
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
I have this theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum.
When I was a kid, my tongue was a permanent shade of bright pink. Shoving as many pieces of BubbleYum into my mouth as I could fit was the epitome of happiness, and when I could fit an entire package at once I knew there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.
And I’m sure that right now if you cut me open my stomach would be a fluorescent pink, because
when I see your face in my mind as I’m sitting in class or
when your name is on my tongue before I fall asleep,
that’s what it tastes like.
Bubblegum.
But please don’t cut me open. My dissection would be too ****** anyway, and far too colorful to detect butterflies…
Because my blood runs red, white, and blue.
When I was younger my mom would always tell me that as I grew older my tastes would change. Of course, she meant that eventually I would grow to like peas, but even though that still hasn’t happened, she was right.
Back then red, white and blue tasted like
hamburgers
and apple pie
and baseball.
But just recently I cut my finger –
and as I brought it to my lips I tasted
lingonberries
and fish and
skiing.
Have you ever wondered why blood tastes like metal? It is the
SWORDS and SHIELDS
that flow through my veins,
passed down from ancestors of millennia past. And every time I am injured it pours out in protest, those ancient warriors urging me to fight against this strange land and this strange culture.
I was born away from home, as were my parents and grandparents before me. And as I feel the shapes of foreign words in my mouth they taste like meeting an old friend. Because I’ve come to realize that my blood never ran red, white and blue.
It runs rødt, hvitt og blått.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Norwegian:
”Og kjærligheten ble verdens opphav og verdens hersker; men alle dens veier er fulle av blomster og blod, blomster og blod.”
TRANSLATED BY ME:
English:
"And love turned out to be the origin of the world and its master; but all of its roads are filled with flowers and blood, flowers and blood."
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC