Old Norway
David Monrad Johnasen
Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our ancestral land.
There are seas which totally as one play around the long shoreline.
There are bays and peninsulas and islands, thousands of fjords and thousands of mountains,
snowy where the snow rarely melts, valleys where the enormous waterfalls fall.
Nasty indeed are the long winters, yet green our spruce forests stand,
and when the foliage on the hills shoots forth, beautiful colors reach our neighborhood.
Great days and short nights pass gently around the bright earth; coast and fjord and mountains
and mountain farms bask in sunlight from south and north.
The children of those who built the land are still on the foundations;
the farms stand on old locales built and repaired as the farmer desires.
Accustomed to difficulty more than to affectionateness, the sound-song plays on land and sea.
May they be granted (to) sing with dignity and to enjoy steadfastness on a foundation in safety and peace.
Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our very own ancestral land.
Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our very own ancestral land.