A keresés eredménye oldal 1

Yule Lads Poem

I wish to tell a tale
about those old lads,
who came here in times before
to our farm homes.
 
They were seen up in the fells,
— as many do know —
all lined up in one trail
down to the homes below.
 
Grýla, she was their mother,
she gave them giant’s milk,
but father Leppalúði
was of lamentable ilk.
 
The Yule Lads as they were named,
— at Yuletide they were due —
and one by one did they come,
but never two by two.
 
There were thirteen
of these gentlemen,
and they wished not to peeve
all folk at once
 
So into the door they snuck
and took apart the lock.
And most of all they searched all through
the pantry and kitchen.
 
With cunning smiles and sneers
they would hide here and there,
prepared with all of their tricks
when people weren’t near.
 
And still should they be seen,
they were wont to come
to tease people — and disturb
the peace of their home.
 
Sheep-cote Clod came first,
built firm as a tree.
Into the sheepfold he would sneak
to play with the farmer's sheep.
 
He meant to suck the ewes' milk,
— which they liked not at all,
for the wretch had feet stiff like wood
— well, this did not go well.
 
Gully Gawk was the next,
with his grey old head.
He snuck down from the gorge
and in the barn he leapt.
 
He hid himself in the stables
as he stole the froth,
while the friendly milkmaiden
chatted with the farmhand.
 
Stubby was named the third,
stumpy he was.
He snatched himself a cooking pan
whenever he could.
 
He ran away then with his prize
and collected the bits
which sometimes burned and stuck to
the bottom here and there.
 
The fourth lad came, Spoon Licker,
thin was he in shape.
He became mischievous
when the cook was not around.
 
And like lightning he then leapt,
grasping the stirring spoon,
He held it with both his hands
for sometimes it would slip.
 
Then fifth came the Pot Scraper,
a silly lad he was.
When children were given pieces,
he came to tap the door.
 
The children rushed to see themselves
if truly they had a guest.
Then he’d hurry over to the pot
and have himself a fest.
 
Then came Bowl Licker, the sixth,
of startlingly poor ilk.
From underneath the bed frame
he stuck his ugly head.
 
When the people would set down their bowls
for the cat and dog,
he sprang out to grab them
and lick them clean he would.
 
Seventh was the lad Door Slammer,
— quite obscene he was.
If people wished at twilight
to catch themselves a rest.
 
But he was not especially
downtrodden that night
if he could roughly bang on
doors and hear them thud.
 
Skyr Gobbler, the eighth one,
frightfully dim lad,
He’d knock upon the skyr tub
with his fist ‘til it broke.
 
He gobbled it by himself
gaping his mouth with food,
until he felt so full
he had to moan and howl.
 
The ninth was Sausage Swiper,
shifty and clever,
He climbed upon the rafters
and pilfered from there.
 
On a wood beam he sat
masked in soot and smoke,
and stuffed himself with sausage
without any care.
 
The tenth lad was Window Peeper,
odd little man,
Who snuck up to the window
And looked in through it.
 
If something did lie therein
and caught his sly eye,
most often later
to swipe it he would try.
 
Eleventh was the Door Sniffer,
— never had a cold,
yet he had such a funny
and oversized nose.
 
He caught scent of bread loaf
there upon the hills,
and smooth like a smoke cloud to
the sweet scent he ran.
 
Then Meat Hook, the twelfth one,
knew many different tunes,
He frolicked in the countryside
on mass of Thorlak's Day1.
 
He snatched himself a small bite,
when the coast was clear.
But sometimes it was too short,
that one hook of his.
 
Thirteenth was the Candle Beggar,
-- it was cold that night,
if he was not the last of them
on that Christmas eve.
 
He trailed behind the children,
who smiled happy and glad,
and ran about the farmland
with their tallow lights 2.
 
Then on Christmas night itself
-- so goes the story --
the lads, they all sat about
and stared at all the lights.
 
Then away they scampered,
through all the frost and snow.
On the thirteenth day, the last one
of the lads would go.
 
Long since in the mountainlands
have all their tracks faded.
But the memories have turned
into art and song.
 

• 1. 23rd of December, date of the death of the patron saint of Iceland (Þorlákur Þórhallsson)
• 2. candles commonly used in the Middle Ages

Blessed are those that mourn

Blessed are those that mourn
For they shall be comforted
Those who sow tears
Shall reap joy
Go and cry
Taking precious seeds
And come with joy
Bearing it's sheaves 1
 

• 1. The bundle of cereal-crop stems bound together after reaping the harvest i.e. a symbol of the hard work involved.

I Don't Have You to Lose Anymore

Time heals all wounds
But you still have to find time
Where everything else turns silent too, at some point
A couple of days, an hour
Maybe just a second
Where memories stay but the future dies
I think I've done it
At least I can sleep again at night
Hey, such a thing will never happen to me again
Oh, no, no
It wasn't that hard at all
To listen to everyone else
And to finally understand the goodbye
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I write for you
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I compose for you
And yet I'm sitting here again
 
It's not a problem for me
To see you this happy
Hey, right now I'm not doing so bad either
Then I'll just start all over again
I know I can do that well
And my tears weren't real anyway
 
I think I've done it
At least I can sleep again at night
Such a thing cannot happen to me again
And it wasn't that hard at all
People say, but usually afterwards
I'm leaving the keys and closing the doors
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I write for you
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I compose for you
And yet I'm sitting here again
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I write for you
 
I don't have you to lose anymore
I'm not letting you control my heart again
No more love songs
Will I compose for you
And yet I'm sitting here again
 

Minden ég

Gyere add fel, gyere add fel, mondja az eszem
és én szürke szemekkel némán nézek a falra.
És átkutatom a szobát, de nem találom az ajtót,
Egy kiút a szabadba, gyorsan el innen.
 
A fejem forró, gyorsan emelkedik a füst
Forr a vér, szív dobog, légszomj, ideg parázslik és tűz szikrázik.
 
Minden ami marad, az hamu és füst.
De fekete felhők között
látok egy kicsi kéket
visszafogom a lélegzetem, futok a hőségen át.
Minden rendben lesz
 
Olyan kevés hely, túl szűk még egy ember számára is.
Mielőtt rám esnének, lebontom a falakat.
Gyere állj fel, gyere állj fel, mondja az eszem
és ha nincs ajtó, akkor csak átmegyek a falon.
 
Minden aminek el kell tűnnie, minden aminek újnak kell lennie.
Kövek megolvadnak, cserepek repülnek, keresztül az új úton,
keresztül a tűzesőn
 
Minden ami marad, az hamu és füst.
De fekete felhők között
látok egy kicsi kéket
visszafogom a lélegzetem, futok a hőségen át.
Minden rendben lesz
Minden rendben lesz
 
És ha újra ég bennem, akkor én pontosan tudom
hogy az ember tűzzel harcol
Minden lángol, minden lángba borul
Minden ami marad, az hamu és füst.
 
De fekete felhők között látok egy kicsi kéket
visszafogom a lélegzetem, futok a hőségen át.
Minden rendben lesz
 
Minden ami marad, az hamu és füst.
De fekete felhők között látok egy kicsi kéket
visszafogom a lélegzetem, futok a hőségen át.
Minden rendben lesz
Minden rendben lesz
Minden rendben lesz
 

The angelic salutation

'Hail, Mary, Mother of grace!'
So the angels were singing to the Virgin Mary
while she was struggling with herself in her prayer.
 
'Mary, you shall conceive a son!
Heaven and earth are yearning for
you being the Mother of the Lord.'
 
'O Angels, how can I live to see that.
I have not had a husband yet
in this big wide world.'
 
'Like the dew falls upon flower meadows,
the Holy Spirit shall overshadow you,
and the Saviour shall be born.'
 
Mary was delighted at hearing this,
saying, 'I am a handmaid of the Lord,
be it done unto me according to thy word!'
 
The Angels sank to their knees.
They all sang, 'Mary, Mary!'
They sang the praises of Mary.
 

God Dries Your Tears

Verse 1:
The reunion will soon pass,
something new will arise out of the unseen,
we will see a new heaven
when we stand before Jesus.
 
Do you hear the voice as it speaks to you?
'I am the beginning, the end,
I am your light.
I am the one who breaks through time
and knows your face.'
 
Refr..:
God wipes all tears away,
God dries your tears.
God wipes all tears away
here in the land of glory.
 
God wipes your tears away,
God dries your tears,
your pain and your suffering
he will gladly take from you.
 
Verse 2:
Whoever overcomes will soon be with him,
past the pain, past your shrine.
The King himself will be your champion.
God will not leave you alone.
 
A thousand years will pass like a day
no matter what was, what is, or what may come.
He gives you comfort so your heart will not despair.
He takes away whatever troubles you.
 
2x Refr..:
God wipes all tears away,
God dries your tears.
God wipes all tears away
here in the land of glory.
 
God wipes your tears away,
God dries your tears,
your pain and your suffering
he will gladly take from you.
 

BWV 245 János-passió 24 Ária B és Kórus: Siessetek, ti meggyötört lelkek.

Basszus:
Siessetek, ti meggyötört lelkek,
hagyjátok el szenvedéseitek helyét!
Siessetek!
Kórus:
Hová?
Basszus:
A Golgotára!
Keljetek útra a hitnek szárnyain,
meneküljetek!
Kórus:
Hová?
Basszus:
A Kereszt dombjára.
Ott virágzik üdvötök.
 

BWV 245, 20 Ária T: Figyeld csak, hogy az ő vérszínezte.

Figyeld csak, hogy az ő vérszínezte háta
mindenestül
az égbolthoz hasonló!
Ott, amint bűneink
özönének árja lezúdult,
ragyog a mindennél szebb szivárvány,
mint Isten kegyelmének jele.