Tá ódnin brestur á

Tá ódnin brestur á (til minnis um rithøvundan Magnus Dam Jacobsen)

Hvar kemur tú frá mítt blíðoygda barn?
Hvar kemur tú frá mítt elskaða barn?
Eg havi ferðast um dalar og blánandi tindar.
Eg havi gingið eftir oyðnum gøtum.
Eg viltist í veldugum tigandi skógum.
Eg sat og stúrdi so leingi við havið.
Eg sat og tonkti á gravarbakka.
Nú er skjótt at tað brestur á!

Og hvat sást tú so mítt blíðoygda barn?
Og hvat sást tú so mítt elskaða barn?
Eg sá eitt barn sum rann undan svangum úlvum
á einum manntómum vegi sum skygdi av gulli.
Eg sá ein gálga við blóðigum greinum.
Eg sá tað húsið har bøðlarnir búgva,
Har stovurnar skína og alt er so ruddað.
Og folk brúka orð sum ongin kann fata.
Eg sá hvassar knívar í smábarnahondum.
Nú er skjótt at tað brestur á

Hvat hoyrdi tú so mítt blíðoygda barn?
Hvat hoyrdi tú so mítt elskaða barn?
Eg hoyrdi toruna ganga og hótta við deyða
Hoyrdi dunið frá aldum ið køvdu alt lív.
Hoyrdi ljóðið frá trummum og krígsóðum monnum.

Hoyrdi menniskju teska uttan vón um hjálp.
Hoyrdi menniskju pínast og menniskju flenna.
Hoyrdi arbeiðsfólk stríðast og doyggja í ómegd.
Hoyrdi yrkjaran syngja sínar einsemisvísur.
Nú er skjótt at tað brestur á.

Hvønn sást tú so mítt blíðoygda barn?
Hvønn sást tú so mítt elskaða barn?
Eg møtti einum barni sum ongan góðan átti.
Eg møtti einum manni við leinkjaðum hundi.
Eg møtti eini kvinnu við brennandi kroppi.
Eg møtti eini gentu við summar og sól.
Og har kom ein maður av kærleika særdur.
Og eg møtti einum øðrum sum var særdur av hatri.
Nú er skjótt at tað brestur á.

Og hvar fert tú nú mítt blíðoygda barn?
Og hvar fert tú nú mítt elskaða barn?
Eg fari avstað nú ódnin hon kemur,
eg fari inn í tær myrkastu skógir.
Har fólkini ganga so tómhent og bíða.
Har regnið er eitrað og onki er heilagt.
Har einasta skjólið er ískalda fongslið.
Har bøðilin altíð situr væl goymdur.
Har svongdin er ljót og sálirnar gloymdar.
Har alt er sløkt og onki er upplýst.
Og eg skal tala og tonkja og liva mitt í tí
Og spreiða tað útyvir allan heimin.
Eg skal stríðast og strevast so leingi eg andi,
Eg skal duga mín sang so óttin hann hvørvur.
Nú er skjótt at tað brestur á.

(umyrkt eftir sanginum hjá Bob Dylan)

“A hard rain´s a-gonna fall”

Rói Patursson

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Copyright © 1963 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music