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Spjallað við spóa

Spjallað við spóa

Ég átti í morgun tal við spakan spóa,
sem spígsporaði um þýfðan sinuflóa,
og var að flauta fjörugt ástarstef
og föndra við sitt langa og bogna nef.
Hann sagði að hvergi væri betra að vera
né viturlegra hreiður sitt að gera,
en hér á þessum hlýja og frjálsa stað,
og hjartanlega vall hann upp á það.
Ég grét af öfund, vildi verða spói
og vildi að landið yrði tómur flói
og vildi elska og syngja í sinu þess,
þá sagði spóinn: Jæja, vertu bless.

Conversation with a Curlew

Today I had a chat with a wise curlew,
who swaggered around the grassy tussocked marsh,
whistling a-while his lively serenade
and dallying with his long and curved beak.
He said there was no better place to be
nor prudent spot in which to build a nest,
than in this warm and unencumbered place,
he heartily waxed eloquently on this.
I wept with envy, wished I was a curlew
I wished the land could all be one big marsh
where I would love and sing among the tussocks.
Then said the curlew: Just so, and farewell.

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Composer

Karl Otto Runólfsson was an Icelandic composer.


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