Excerpts from Steinbjørn B. Jacobsen’s collection, Lív (1981)
Ten summers you were with us were a part of us lent us your eyes Lit up our lives shared your precious mind A vibrant spring that flowed A delicate fate was woven We remain here with our hands full of dreams But we are not crying for them A spring has evaporated A pattern has ended Incomplete or maybe We just don’t understand it But the memories live on
Tíggju summør var tú hjá okkum var ein partur av okkum lænti okkum tíni eygu Birti lív í gav av tínum ríka sinni Ein lívsfrísk kelda ið rann Ein vøkur lagna varð vovin Eftir standa vit við hondunum fullum av dreymum Tað er ikki teir vit gráta um Ein kelda er tornað Eitt mynstur er vovið Hálvliðugt ella kanska Vit skilja tað ikki Men minnini liva
*** Right there close to where you lost your young life at the height of summer in the fairest weather Your great-great grandfather stood February 15, 1915 and watched both of his sons drown in a storm along with 12 others I myself walked down this road the day after the tragedy and looked at the skid marks ploughed into the asphalt The shimmering shoreline murmured softly behind the graveyard of our ancestors They had all experienced loss Though not at the hands of men Nature had taken from them Maybe it’s easier when nature claims a life What can be said or done about the ocean
***
Beint har í nánd tú lætt títt unga lív Á hásumri í besta veðri á vegnum Har stóð oldurabbi tín 15. februar 1915 og sá báðar synir sínar drukna í óveðri saman við 12 øðrum Sjálvur gekk eg á vegnum dagin eftir Hugdi at bilsporum ið vóru pløgd niður í asfaltið Lógvin lá har blonk og kvirraði aftan fyri kirkjugarðin Har inni lógu forfedrarnir Øll høvdu tey mist Tó ikki av manna ávum Náttúran hevði tikið frá teimum Kanska tað er betri tá náttúran tekur Hvat sigst og gerst við havið
By graves like yours the concept of an angel must have been born An innocent soul like yours A pristine lake and its reflection A fresh morning sky Nary a cloud A childlike summer sun Ever radiant So long as we remain here
Við gravir sum tína má hugtakið eingil vera føtt Ein barnasál sum tín Eitt reint vatn við spegilsmyndini Ein barnsligur himmal Einki døkt Ein barnslig summarsól Aldri sløkt Meðan vit standa eftir
***
So still and calm in sleep A tranquil repose about your face Many a time I had to come closer and bend down To feel your breath Check that you were still with us
So still og kvirr í svøvni Ein hvíld og ein friður um alt andlitið Mangan mátti ein koma nærri Toyggja seg niður til tín Kenna tín anda Vita um tú var her hjá okkum
***
8-7-80 early in the morning We were going to guide some tourists to Kirkjubø I wrote the date on a piece of paper A beautiful row of numbers But that number seven I didn’t normally dwell on such things Somehow it kept bothering me
8.7.80 tíðliga um morgunin Vit skuldu við ferðafólki til Kirkjubøar Dagfesti eg hesi tøl á blað Eitt vakurt talrað Men hetta sjeytalið Eg plagdi ikki at hugsa um slíkt Tó kendi eg tað so løgið
***
People grew weary from hiking They walked in small groups The weather was clear and the trail firm But I felt a dull fatigue When I walked into the courtyard I saw a black bicycle I didn’t recognize Someone was waiting for me Had something to tell me It was the priest There has been a terrible accident
Fólk møddust av gonguni Gingu í smáum bólkum Veðrið var klárt og gøtan góð Kendi tó eina dølska møði Komin í túnið sá eg eina svarta fremmanda súkklu Onkur bíðaði eftir mær Vildi mær eitt hvørt Tað var prestur Ein stór ólukka er hend ***
Time and time again the sun will rise Countless eyes will greet her But two eyes are missing Two eyes she can’t see
Aftur og aftur skal sólin rísa Eitt ótal av eygum Skulu møta henni Men tvey eygu vanta Tvey eygu sær hon ikki
Translated from the Faroese by Randi Ward