Rezultatele căutării

The Cape

The smoke touches the birchbark, when the scent of summer makes great promises.
Long days drive the clouds far away from my face.
Do I imagine the bloody Sunday when I hear faraway echoes of the coachman shout:
 
'Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to see, there is no sunshine there.
Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to whisper silently about the bloody Sunday.'
 
On the moon alley the aspen sways, its branches look at the shimmer.
Fresh leafs still laying on the ground, but in the morning as dirt they fall apart.
 
Those who are walking the beard moss tries to reach, but fails to reach them.
Its fingers have gotten longer when the days have gone by, still they dry on the tree branch.
Still the shrubs guard the path: 'here before pressed to the ground.'
There the coachman enters ahead, us following behind him.
 
Above the water ripples are chiming, the glimmer of the tree stump has faded above the day that's coming to an end.
The path to safety won't protect me, silent is the murder cape.
 
'Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to see, there is no sunshine there.
Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to whisper silently about the bloody Sunday.'
 
'Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to see, there is no sunshine there.
Come to the end of the cape, to the tip of the cape to whisper silently about the bloody Sunday.'
 

Leväluhta

I float across the grey surface
There they carried me
In the arms of this shadestream
Whom they gave me to
 
And there I am light and call along others so I don't alone
Fall under the water level, walk side by side with me
And if there are trees on these thicketlands, to them reaches
The hand that may rise above my breast
 
Light it is to sway on that light other side
Mild to float lightly on the Leväluhta swamp
Hard as a prisoner to control tomorrow's sorrows
Svelte to sway light as a feather
 
Come all acquaintances meet me
Only few of them I recognize
Here the pasture rocks its child
Waves the hand of the swayer
 
And there I am light and call along others so I don't alone
Fall under the water level, walk side by side with me
And if there are trees on these , to them reaches
The hand that may rise above my breast
 
Light it is to sway on that light other side
Mild to float lightly on the Leväluhta swamp
Hard as a prisoner to control tomorrow's sorrows
Svelte to sway light as a feather
 
Light it is to sway on that light other side
Mild to float lightly on the Leväluhta swamp
Hard as a prisoner to control tomorrow's sorrows
Svelte to sway light as a feather
 

Tear of the Wildwood Spruce

Time sits on the ancient trees
Watching the evening joys
I lie resting on the ground
On the door of the wildwood spruce
 
From here I can see the ridge wells
The tender rage of evergreen trees
Strands of hair like hay fields
Cobs like bells
On my lips the alder bird's longing
The foot keeps going
As if thinking
Sits on my lap crying
 
From the eyes of the forest
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Dances beside me
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the stump's wounds
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the shadows of the lean-to
The tear of the wildwood spruce
 
In the sprig-lands it smells of tar
Runs its long fire
The bauble gleams with nightly fire
Firelight in the night
 
There with my back against the ground
Touched by the morning dew tear
The thrushes don't sing above me
The silent song
Watches like living in longing
Would sit beside me
A blade of grass in my ear
Crying tears in its song
 
From the eyes of the forest
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Dances beside me
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the stump's wounds
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the shadows of the lean-to
The tear of the wildwood spruce
 
From the eyes of the forest
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Dances beside me
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the stump's wounds
The tear of the wildwood spruce
Into the shadows of the lean-to
The tear of the wildwood spruce
 

Alături de copaci

Departe, foarte departe, unde mesteacănul n-ar crește,
Departe, foarte departe și unde vântul îți îngheață fața
Acolo n-ai fi singur!
 
Mai bine aș zbura cu vulturii către dealurile înzăpezite,
Mai bine aș hoinări cu lupii printre copaci,
Mai bine aș fi alături de copaci, decât în mijlocul străzilor zgomotoase/ asurzitoare.
 
Atât de departe, mintea mea zboară către lună,
Departe, foarte departe, pot vedea ce se va întâmpla curând
Și ce-i mai important!
 
Share music and kindness! :)

Sub soare

Când totul în jur arde,
Tu ești flacăra, tu ești soarele,
Îți vei pârjoli calea către un loc secret,
Către un loc unde poți respira.
 
Când totul în jur se scufundă,
Tu ești cel care mă pescuiește/ mă capturează,
Pe mine înecatul din lac,
Esti singurul pe care îl las să o facă.
 
Tu ești singurul
(vreau doar să zbor)
Tu ești singurul
(vreau doar să răsar/ să izbândesc)
Tu ești singurul
(vreau doar să văd)
Tu ești singurul
(sub soare)
Tu ești singurul!
 
Când lumea mea întreagă se învârte,
Tu ești singurul care mă ține/ mă sprijină,
Ești cel pe care mă pot baza
Când propriile-mi picioare sunt fără putere.
 
Share music and kindness! :)

Skull Chalice

I conjure them to me
For these spirits
Where the wind of the fells
Where the forceful tempest
 
Today light plays on skin
A joy without mourners
Today fire in the sound-hair
That fire keeps me safe
 
I dance in the skies
On the rocks of the shining lid
Like gleam on the eye's surface
The slash of my guarding wolf
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
Still darkening from the fire
 
Run wolf, run like a horse
Fur-foot in the lands of cattle
Run till the roots swoon
Run with toes, run with skis
 
Run wolf, run like a horse
Fur-foot in the lands of cattle
Run till the roots swoon
Run with toes, run with skis
 
I conjure them to me
For these spirits
Where the wind of the fells
Where the forceful tempest
 
Today light plays on skin
A joy without mourners
Today fire in the sound-hair
That fire keeps me safe
 
I dance in the skies
On the rocks of the shining lid
Like gleam on the eye's surface
The slash of my guarding wolf
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
 
Like running on down
The snowshoes carry me
Like generous plows
In its hands my fire
 
The head is a long day's hair
The flame's head a meadow flower
I myself am a bear hide
A pike's mind, a skull chalice
 
I dance in the skies
On the rocks of the shining lid
Like gleam on the eye's surface
The slash of my guarding wolf
 
With eyes I see a stump in the snow
Snow falling from a dead tree
With eyes I see the dance of the lid
Still darkening from the fire
 
Run wolf, run like a horse
Fur-foot in the lands of cattle
Run till the roots swoon
Run with toes, run with skis
 
Like running on down
The snowshoes carry me
Like generous plows
In its hands my fire
 
The head is a long day's hair
The flame's head a meadow flower
I myself am a bear hide
The pike's mind, the skull chalice
 
Skull chalice
Skull chalice
Skull chalice
 

Like a sleeping forest

The swamp is whispering in a summery night
like a sleeping forest
In it the treetops are waving
As a dead tree's trunk
And underneath lying
happily sleeping
Like being on a walk
The road is steady and blooming
 
But on who's country road
are you able to hear singing?
When through a broad land is singing
the swamp like a sleeping forest
The road has been cast
by time itself
That's why the one back home
Know's it's path
 
I feel it,
I'm here only as a quest.
Unfamiliar valleys,
Have already been forgotten.
For me weird is,
My shoulders' weight.
Unknown,
My sweet girl is.
 
I feel it,
Quietly whispering it's yearning.
The fields are lonely,
Their land is black.
For me weird is,
the frosts cover.
Unknown,
is the lady of dreams.
 
There flailing a farmer's job,
like the foam of a river.
It's froth covers the rocks,
It has a steady stream.
When it arrives to me,
The fresh hay's scent.
I won't harvest,
That old swampy land.
 
When I take my final step,
That lady can pick up
the dead flower.
Like she'd know my dream,
That I won't wake up from it.
Under a gray trunk,
If the time of living,
goes through all fear.
 
I feel it,
I'm here only as a quest.
Unfamiliar valleys,
Have already been forgotten.
For me weird is,
My shoulders' weight.
Unknown,
My sweet girl is.
 
I feel it,
Quietly whispering it's yearning.
The fields are lonely,
Their land is black.
For me weird is,
the frosts cover.
Unknown,
is the lady of dreams.
 
I feel it,
Quietly whispering it's yearning.
The fields are lonely,
Their land is black.
For me weird is,
the frosts cover.
Unknown,
is the lady of dreams.
 
I know, that living
just for tomorrow.
It feels like from a moment
the steps ran away.
Now time is disappearing,
Fading in to the shadows.
Like restless,
and gone is my dream.
 

Greyness

When fallen into greyness, for a moment wings try to reach out
A faint moan can be heard like silence can be heard
If it’s possible to sing there, its song will sound high on the snowdrifts
But once, when I will hear the little snow bird to fall silent,
The song of Sylvia can be heard1
 
Winter’s starry sky above, its shine rests on the snow
Yet you are alone silently, like fading away
Once here was faith of spring, its will bends like the snowy branches
And yet you touch silently, as if wistful
Even if I always protected the most fragile, delicate in my hands,
I would still fear that you’ll disappear in the winds
Even if morning is here, snow alone whispers so very quietly
I open my hands, I feel a light touch of rime
 
Still carries in its cradle,
Makes to understand the worries of the carer
The faintest moan
Doesn’t allow others to notice and worry about it
When the song of Sylvia can be heard
 
Winter’s starry sky above, its shine rests on the snow
Yet you are alone silently, like fading away
Once here was faith of spring, its will bends like the snowy branches
And yet you touch silently, as if wistful
Even if I always protected the most fragile, delicate in my hands,
I would still fear that you’ll disappear in the winds
Even if morning is here, snow alone whispers so very quietly
I open my hands, I feel a light touch of rime
 
A limited heart can’t know, can’t feel that will
Still the song of yearning can be heard by the grove
 

• 1. There's a poem, nowadays a well-known Christmas song, called (Sylvia's Christmas song) written by Zacharias Topelius. Sylvian joululaulu tells of yearning and anxiety, and Sylvia itself refers to a warbler (which belongs to the genus Sylvia). Most often the bird is believed to be an Eurasian blackcap.

A boy in suspenders

I'm watching at the working maids in the yard
i wonder who i'd like to know when we get old
But oh, how we'd grow old
that's a different story
 
With a blade of grass in my mouth
I'm watching at the working maids
one carries jugs full of milk,
who has stayed a night in her shed?
 
I fit my hat on my head,
feeling the needles of sunlight burning,
or is it the reddening of their cheeks,
which melts away all the grief i have in my heart
 
Stepping on carefully like going over flowers in a field
Through days, wandering nights
As i watch at my girl in the yard
Open the doors for her as a farmhand
 
Oh have you young maid
ever noticed this flashy boy in suspenders
The one always in the parties, couraging the spelmen:
'Let the music play through nights, through work let it play!'
 
I'm watching at the working maids in the yard
Especially that one with long, blond hair
Even if she has a smile like a beautiful summer night,
At days she knits the blackest socks
 
Dark clouds fill up the sky,
Rain wettens the yard in seconds
whoever shall open up the door into their shed
Shall walk on side by side through the times
 
Stepping on carefully like going over flowers in a field
Through days, wandering nights
As i watch at my girl at the yard
Open the doors for her as a farmhand
 
Oh have you young maid
ever noticed this flashy boy in suspenders
The one always in the parties, couraging the spelmen:
'Let the music play through nights, through work let it play!'
 
Jon Of Finland

Acasă

Frunze crude în pomi au fost lăsate în urmă acasă,
A fost ușor să numeri cu ele zilele de însămânțat,
Apoi, deasupra casei, în fum, frunzele timpurii
Sub care cândva exista un câmp ciopârțit și ars.
Pasul meu sălta fără griji,
Iar amintirea nici măcar nu le știa
După urmele pașilor.
Nepăsătoare, în roata fericită a clipei,
Mintea voia să știe:
E casa mea aici, acum?
 
E aur pe acoperiș,
Cunoscut încă din copilărie,
Arde către noi,
Acolo stă în timpul nopților,
Cel ale cărui întristări sunt curmate
Și în a cărui poală te legeni întreaga vară.
Cred că o să alerg către pajiști
Precum fânul a acoperit pe cea preaiubită
Tu încă te legeni lângă mine o vreme,
Mai departe aud,
Acolo faci ecou vântului,
Incet ridicându-ți capul.
Nopțile nu dansează,
Dacă în iunie gheața iernii trecute încă e așternută.
 
Arborii Vihta de lângă drumul satului au adus un parfum
Pe care niciun bărbat nu-l are.
Apoi veselia stă pe pe marginile apelor,
Fumul vine dinspre culmi, traversând curtea casei.
Pasul meu saltă, păstrez asta în amintirile mele,
Chiar dacă uneori sentimentul se stinge.
Gânduri gri le-ar putea urmări, dar nu vor fi uitate,
Chiar dacă plec mai departe.
 
Totul împrejur e auriu, cunoscut încă din copilărie,
Arde către noi,
Acolo stă în timpul nopților, cel ale cărui întristări sunt curmate
Și în a cărui poală te legeni întreaga vară.
Cred că o să alerg către pajiști, precum fânul a acoperit pe cea preaiubită
Tu încă te legeni lângă mine o vreme...
 
Plutesc în aer aripile în tăcere,
Precum în albastrul (cerului) liniază frunzele.
 
Taie grăunțele, frumusețea lui e o dată slab vizibilă,
Până când tot ce va veni va dispărea.
Acolo stă în timpul nopților, cel ale cărui întristări sunt curmate
Și în a cărui poală te legeni întreaga vară.
Cred că o să alerg către pajiști, precum fânul a acoperit pe cea preaiubită.
Tu încă te legeni lângă mine o vreme,
Mai departe aud, acolo faci ecou vântului,
Incet ridicându-ți capul.
Nopțile nu dansează, dacă în iunie gheața iernii trecute încă e așternută.
 

Veni vulturul

Veni vulturul din văzduh
Un șoim de deasupra vântului,
Pasăre zburătoare, bestie
Din profunzimile cerului azuriu.
 
Aripile erau deschise și puternice,
Penele erau răvășite,
Ciocul lui era lung și ascuțit,
Ochii scânteiau.
 
Frumos ca o curbură de vultur,
Cutezătoare ca plonjarea unui șoim,
Atât de nobilă este propria mea minte,
Atât de liber este propriul meu spirit.
 
Prima aripă a atins pământul,
A doua aripă a zgâriat cerul,
Ciocul a atins vârfurile copacilor,
Ochii au văzut sfârșitul stelelor.
 
A făcut trei ocoluri,
Trei ocoluri/ rotiri, patru râuri
Către ținutul pădurii atât de frumos,
Către dulcele ținuț al finlandezilor.
 
Frumos ca o curbură de vultur,
Cutezătoare ca plonjarea unui șoim,
Atât de nobilă este propria mea minte,
Atât de liber este propriul meu spirit.
 

Mormântul vrăjitoarei

Odată, sub lună și soare,
Diminețile vieții scădeau.
În codrul magic,
La marginea Vesilahti,
Era un vraci,
Un vrăjitoare pricepută,
Dar n-avea odihnă,
Nicio zi doar pentru ea.
 
Voia să aparțină,
Voia să fie înmormântată,
Cadavrul ei să fie luat,
Purtat departe de ceilalți.
Când voi fi un cadavru,
Când zilele mi-au trecut,
Purtați-mi trupul departe,
Când cade noaptea...
 
Cel ce trece pe lângă mormântul meu,
Oricine ar fi,
Asta trebuie să faci,
Altfel lucruri înfricoșătoare ți se vor întâmpla.
 
Dar când zorii apar
Și noaptea a trecut,
Acolo-mi va fi mormântul,
Acolo voi fi întinsă,
Moartea ia ce-i aparține,
Vraciul, în brațele ei,
Deci patru bărbați îl iau
Și duc trupul neînsuflețit al vrăjitoarei.
 
Dar e lumină printre nori,
Primele raze ale zilei,
Deci e timpul să zacă să se odihnească,
Să facă loc morții
După sute de ani.
În pădurea magică,
La marginea Vesilahti,
Știința uitată,
Amintirea transformată într-o poveste,
Purtată spre lumina lunii,
Îngropată înainte de răsărit.
 
x 2
Cel ce trece pe lângă mormântul meu,
Oricine ar fi,
Asta trebuie să faci,
Altfel lucruri înfricoșătoare ți se vor întâmpla.
Va trebui să rupi o ramură,
Să pocnești o creangă de scoruș,
Să rupi o ramură de mesteacăn,
Să așezi o rămurică de pin pe mormânt...
 

Patrie natală

Valurile lacului stropesc/ plescăie
Și pinii murmură.
Înghețul nordului doare,
Cântă durerile finlandeze...
 
Pădurile mohorâte și pietroase, întunecoase,
Acolo mintea mea se odihnește,
Acolo uit durerea,
Stelele și luna ne binecuvântează!
 
(refren)
Oh, patrie natală, rămâi mândră, înfruntând viitorul!
N-ai fost nicicând doborâtă, exilată în noapte.
Oh, patrie natală, rămâi mândră, înfruntând viitorul!
Nu vei fi nicicând doborâtă!
 
Nici vremea nu ne înfricoșează,
Nu ne zgribulesc iernile,
Nici cruzimea codrilor
Nu ne ia sângele și viața.
 
Răgetele fioroase, rapide
Și înălțimea dealurilor,
Codrii de pin și pădurile de mesteacăn
Peste stâncile imense.
 

Drool Of The Beast

Osmotar the maker of beer
Was walking far in the fields
Pellonpekko raised the barley
And the barley was ready for beer
 
Osmotar rubbed her hands
Rubbed once, rubbed twice
Thus animals were born
Fetchers of spice
 
They looked for nectar, sprouts of fir,
Gathered essentials from the forest
Osmotar made the beer
From hop, from barley sweet
 
But the barley drink won't brew
The precious ale is resting
Osmotar the creator of beer
Comes up with with a peculiar plan
 
'Get the drool of the beast'
 
From a fight between two giants
Bring it to the beer vessel
'Get the drool of the beast
It will make the beer brew'
 
They did as told
Went to get the drool of a bear
Straight away it started to brew
The dark beer, sweet smelling
 
She looked for nectar, sprouts of fir,
Gathered essentials from the forest
Osmotar made the beer
From hop, from barley sweet
 
But the barley drink won't brew
The precious ale is resting
Osmotar the creator of beer
Comes up with with a peculiar plan
 
'Get the drool of the beast'
 

Swampclan

Into an apprentice of Kanervala
'To a tracker of Tapiola
I was born a soldier
A grown, strong wanderer
 
Swamps, wilderness across I walk
Searching for the treasures of Aarnikangas
The life-long spirit deep in me
The power of mountains in my wrists
 
'The Clan of the Swamp of Salo
Hand grabs of a talpidae
The Clan of the Swamp of Salo
The power of mountains in my wrists '(x2)
 
The Clan of the swamp of Salo
The Clan of the swamp of Salo
 
I have the grabs of a talpidae
The accurate knowledge from the lynx
A call has arrived from the horned one
A sprint from the dephts of the swamp
 
The vast song of a Laatiainen
A grand song of a Sovittainen
To the animals and humans 'like
To the children of the Wasteland
 
'The Clan of the Swamp of Salo
Hand grabs of a talpidae
The Clan of the Swamp of Salo
The power of mountains in my wrists'
(x2)
 
The Clan of the Swamp of Salo
The Clan of the Swamp of Salo