From the Faeroese

Akvæði

Við erum söltun græna hold

Vonast kjötið verður serpha kalt

Tré eins skritsi gegn hjó hádegi

draugalega útibú, hatracks fyrir uglu og örn

Og látlaus kalt eyðimörk utan

Augu okkar skreppa inn á móti vindi

Innandyra: sæng, bók, og eldur

Litlar máltíðir á þurrkað ljós

Langar nætur dreyma um enda heimsins

Og langt útungun í vor, á frest milli snjóar

Provisions

We are salting the green flesh

Hoping the meat will outlast the cold

Trees like scribbles against the chiseled afternoon

Wraithlike branches, hatracks for owl and eagle

And a plain cold desert beyond

Our eyes shrink inward against the wind

Indoors: blanket, book, and fire

Small meals in the shrunken light

Long nights dreaming of the world’s end

And the far off hatching of the spring, the respite between snows

— Sigurd Enterrig

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