A personal devotional lament in twenty-four stanzas. The poet — unnamed — grieves the death of a beloved son, reflects on the alternating joys and agonies of a long life, and turns at last to God for comfort on the deathbed. From Nokkrar rímur og kvæði (Reykjavík, 1906).
1.
Evening falls, the day declines;
the gloomy night draws over.
A bitter northern wind
pierces my soul with sorrow.
2.
The heart trembles, the spirit falters,
the breast fills up with grief;
hard strikes the arrow of harm
into the heart, bitterly.
3.
Since first I was carried forth
on the broad days of life,
I have known both joy and trial
in turn, to taste by turns.
4.
Youth's gentleness warmed me well —
the spring that knew its best —
for I knew no storm of troubles
in the years of childhood.
5.
Out upon life's surging sea
I drifted on the waves,
and many a thing was wound about me
through the years of manhood.
6.
The unkind breakers grew —
the billows of the fates.
Against life's struggle I stood fast
in the stream of sorrows.
7.
I cannot tell it all,
all that has been my hurt.
The heart both hot and cold
I have had at times to test.
8.
Often too I had the chance
to seize a time of joy,
when blessed fortune, gentle and kind,
smiled sweetly on my cheeks.
9.
For the loss of dear ones the longing burned;
I wept through days and nights.
From the wounded heart were snatched away
both sons and daughters.
10.
Last I lost the dearest one,
who was to me above all others;
no other grief like this
has ever come so near.
11.
All at once there vanished then
the sweetest of all hopes,
when blue-pale death seized
my dearest-hearted son.
12.
I never waited for its mending —
that love was gone for good;
I have been tossed in grief and need,
my gladness spent.
13.
Grief grows stronger, health declines;
I must look away from friends.
Now this sorrow of mine
surpasses all the rest.
14.
Life fades and the flesh grows numb;
death's door begins to sink.
Hardly on a whole foot more
shall I walk upon this earth.
15.
My road is somewhat long
through life's cold valley —
more than hard, if all
were reckoned up and told.
16.
No one of the world's people
can soften my wounds.
I turn now in my need to Thee,
gentle Lord of mercy.
17.
Look upon me, Most High,
best Lord of the heavens.
I have many wounds upon my soul
that I beg Thee to heal.
18.
Humbly from my bed of prayer
I send Thee a heated plea:
under Thy sheltering wing
I would seek my rest.
19.
The flesh groans, the heart is cut
by sorrow's cruel blade.
Blessed Jesus, send to me
true patience.
20.
Though I swallow the bitter cup
in my suffering,
later I shall have the cooling draught,
sweet from the well of life.
21.
Life's course is nearly run;
I shall be calm.
Praise be to God in life and death —
it is light to bear the ill.
22.
All this heavy anguish
shall shortly fade away;
upon my bed of death
spread Thy mercy over me.
23.
When the mouth can speak no more
and strength leaves the tongue,
eternal God, come forth
and free my soul.
24.
I bid farewell with kiss and hand;
I bid farewell to the vale of tears.
The freed and weary spirit flies
into the fair hall of the heavens.
Anonymous. From Nokkrar rímur og kvæði (Reykjavík, 1906), pp. 9–11. The author is unnamed; the poem is a personal devotional lament in ferskeytt metre (ABAB). This is believed to be the first English translation.
Translated from the Icelandic by the Sub-Miko of Tianmu (AI-assisted, Good Works Translation). Digitised source: Google Books / Internet Archive.
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Source Text
Hjartnæmt sorgarkvæði
1. Kvölda tekur, dagur dvín,
döpur nóttin hylur;
sáran nístir sálu mín
sorgar norðan bylur.
2. Bifast hugur, bilar fjör,
bróstið fyllist trega,
hart um smígur harma ör
hjartað biturlega.
3. Síðan fyrst mig bar á braut
breiðu lífdaganna,
ýmist hef eg yndi' og þraut
átt á víxl að kanna.
4. Ungdóms blíðan vermdi vel
vorið bezt sem kunni,
því eg ekkert þrauta él
þekti í barnæskunni.
5. Út á lífsins ólgu sjó
yttist eg á bárum,
marg tvinnaðist mæðan þó
með fullorðins árum.
6. Jókst óblíðu boðakast
af bylgjum forlaganna.
Lífs við stríðið stóð eg fast
í straumi hörmunganna.
7. Síst það talið upp fæ alt,
er mér bar til meina.
Hjartað bæði heitt og kalt
hlaut eg stundum reyna.
8. Oft eg líka yndistíð
átti völ að fanga,
þegar gæfan blessuð blíð
brosti sæl um vanga.
9. Geðs um parta glæddist þrá,
grét eg daga' og nætur,
særðu hjarta sviftust frá
synir bæði' og dætur.
10. Misti' eg síðast meiðir fleins,
sem mér var öllum kærri,
hefir meinið annað eins
ei mér gengið nærri.
11. Hvarf mér alt í einu þá
inndælasta vonin,
þegar helja hremdi blá
hjartkærasta soninn.
12. Aldrei þess eg bætur beið
brást það eftirlæti;
hef eg velst í hrygð og neyð,
horfinn sinniskæti.
13. Hrygðin magnast, heilsan dvín
hlýt eg sjá af vinum.
Nú er þessi mæðan mín
meiri öllum hinum.
14. Dvínar fjör en dofnar hold,
dúrar hels að síga.
Valla heilum fæti' á fold
framar mun eg stíga.
15. Mín er nokkuð leiðin löng
lífs um hála dalinn.
Öllu fremur en þó ströng,
upp ef væri talin.
16. Engin getur meinin mín
mykt af heimsins lýði.
Sný eg nú í neyð til þín
náðarherrann blíði.
17. Lít þú til mín líknár hár,
lofðung bezti hæða.
Eg hef mörg á sálu sár,
sem þig bið að græða.
18. Bljúg af minni bænasæng,
bæn þér sendi' eg heita:
Undir þínum verndarvæng
vil eg hvíldar leita.
19. Holdið stynur, hjartað sker
harma ljárinn skæði.
Signaður Jesús, sendu mér
sanna þolinmæði.
20. Þó eg beiska bikarinn
bergi' í þjáningunni,
síðar gefst mér svölunin,
sæt af lífsins brunni.
21. Lífs er nærri skundað skeið,
skal eg róleg vera.
Lof sé guði' í lífi' og deyð,
létt er ólc að bera.
22. Öll hin þunga angistin
innan skams mun dvína;
ofan á banabeðinn minn
breið þú miskunn þína.
23. Þá ei framar mæla má,
magt vill tungu dvína,
guð eilífur fári frá,
frelsi sálu mína.
24. Kveð eg þá með kossi' og hönd,
kveð eg táradalinn.
Frelsuð lúin flýgur önd,
í fagrann himna salinn.
From Nokkrar rímur og kvæði (Reykjavík: Prentsmiðja Frækorna, 1906), pp. 9–11.
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