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| man drying birch twigs for fodder |
KVARDAG
Dei store stormane
har du attum deg.
Då spurde du ikkje
kvi du var til,
kvar du kom frå eller kvar du gjekk,
du berre var i stormen,
var i elden.
Men det gjeng an å leve
i kvardagen òg,
den grå stille dagen,
setja potetor, raka lauv
og bera ris,
det er so mangt å tenkje på her i verdi,
eit manneliv strekk ikkje til.
Etter strævet kan du steikja flesk
og lesa kinesiske vers.
Gamle Laertes skar klunger
og grov um fiketrei,
og let heltane slåst ved Troja.
EVERYDAY
The raging storms
you have behind you.
You did not ask then
why you existed,
where you came from or where you were going
you were simply in the storm,
were in the fire.
But life is quite possible
in the everyday too,
the day grey and silent,
planting potatoes, raking leaves
drying birch twigs for fodder,
there’s so much to think about in this world,
a human life is insufficient.
After your exertions you can fry bacon
and read Chinese poetry.
Old Laertes trimmed wild roses
and dug round fig trees,
and let the heroes fight for Troy.
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