by Jónas Hallgrímsson

    Translated by Dick Ringler

    The star of love

    over Steeple Rock

    is cloaked in clouds of night.

    It laughed， once， in heaven

    for the lad who grieves

    deep in the dark valley.

    I know where all hope——

    and my whole world——

    flames with the fire of God.

    I throw off the chains

    of thought， I fling

    myself into your soul.

    I sink myself，

    see into your being，

    live your very life；

    each gracious moment

    God allots you

    flares in my flaming heart.

    Alone together

    we gathered flowers

    high on the heath at dawn.

    I wove you wreaths，

    reverently laying

    loving gifts in your lap.

    You heaped my forehead

    with fragrant rings

    of bright blue flowers，

    one， then another；

    you nodded and smiled

    and swiftly snatched them away.

    We laughed in the highlands

    while heaven grew clear，

    bright at the mountain brim.

    Not a single joy

    seemed to exist

    apart from living our life.

    The wise flower elves

    wept in the hollows，

    they knew we would need to part.

    We thought it was drops

    of dew and kissed

    cold tears from the crossgrass.

    I held you on horseback

    in the hurtling stream

    and felt with fond assurance

    I could lift and carry

    so light a flower

    over all the leagues of life.

    Beside the bank

    of Boar River

    I carefully combed your hair；

    eye stars flash，

    flower lips smile，

    cheeks turn ruby red.

    He is far from your fair

    friendship， the lad

    deep in the dark valley.

    The star of love

    over Steeple Rock

    is burning back of clouds.

    The heavens part

    the high planets，

    blade parts back and edge；

    not even eter-

    nity can part

    souls that are sealed in love.