Áramót

  

Enn eitt árið er horfið
í grámóðu fortíðar.
Í mistrinu eru milljónir annarra
ára sem liðu og hurfu
og engin man lengur.

Af hverju er ár eitthvað
sem skiptir máli?
Þrjúhundruðsextíuogfimm eða
þrjúhundruðsextíuogsex dagar
og
þrjúhundurðsextíuogfimm eða
þrjúhundruðsextíuogsex nætur
hvert öðru lík,
raðað í einfalda röð
og kallaðir ár.

Áramót er augnablik
búið til af mönnum,
en er aðeins eitt andartak
af óteljandi andartökum.
Það andartak er eins og öll hin
sem farin eru,
og eins og þau sem eru ókomin.

Framundan er nýtt ár
alveg eins og öll hin sem farin eru.
Örlög þess eru þau sömu og allra hinna.
Að hverfa í gráma fortíðar
og gleymast.

Núið.. er andartak sem ekki er til
Það er bara til horfin fortíð
og ókomin framtíð.
Allt annað er mannanna verk
og hugarsmíð.


Jón Ingi
1952-

Hesitating Beauty

  
For your sparkling cocky smile I've walked a million miles
Begging you to come and wed me in the spring
Why do you my dear delay
What makes you laugh and turn away
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee

Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee

We can build a house and home where the flowers come to bloom
Around our yard I'll nail a fence so high
That the boys with peeping eyes cannot see that angel face
My hesitating beauty Nora Lee

Well I know that you are itching to get married Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we can spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee

We can ramble hand in hand across the grasses of our land
I'll kiss you for each leaf on every tree
We can bring our kids to play where the dry leaves blow today
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee

Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee

words: Woody Guthrie

  

The Pedigree Of Honey

  
The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.

by Emily Dickinson.

- Robert Francis Kennedy

  
"Goethe tells us in his greatest poem that Faust lost the liberty of his soul when he said to the passing moment, ' Stay, thou art so fair .'"

  

The Oak

  

Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;

Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.

All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

The Nearest Dream Recedes, Unrealized

  

The heaven we chase
Like the June bee
Before the school-boy
Invites the race;
Stoops to an easy clover
Dips--evades--teases--deploys;
Then to the royal clouds
Lifts his light pinnace
Heedless of the boy
Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.

Homesick for steadfast honey,
Ah! the bee flies not
That brews that rare variety.

by Emily Dickinson.

  

Bráðum koma blessuð jólin

  
Bráðum koma blessuð jólin
börnin fara að hlakka til.
Allir fá þá eitthvað fallegt
í það minnsta kerti´ og spil.

Hvað það verður veit nú enginn,
vandi er um slíkt að spá.
En eitt er víst að alltaf verður
ákaflega gaman þá.

Máske þú fáir menn úr tini,
máske líka þetta kver.
Við skulum bíða og sjá hvað setur
seinna vitnast hvernig fer.

En ef þú skyldir eignast kverið,
ætlar það að biðja þig
að fletta hægt og fara alltaf
fjarskalega vel með sig.

(Jóhannes úr Kötlum)

Barn

  
Ó barn

Þú ert betlarinn
í borginni

Þú ert saklausa dúfan
er hann soltinn étur

Og þú ert blóðið
á fálmandi höndum hans
Jóhann Hjálmarsson

Grýluþula

  
Grýla kallar á börnin sín
þegar hún fer að sjóða til jóla.
Komið þið hingað öll til mín.
Leppur, Skreppur, Langleggur og Skjóða.
Brytjaðu Leppur bóg af nauti,
bjarndýrslær og þjó af kú,
kapalshrygginn býsna blautan,
bringukollinn og lendabú,
sauðarkrof og selinn feita
og svínsskammrif nokkuð fín.
Grýla kallar á börnin sín.
Þó mun ekki af þessu veita
ef þiggjum máltíð góða,
Leppur, Skreppur, Langleggur og Skjóða.
Sæktu vatnið síðan Skreppur,
sjálf hún Grýla mælti þá.
Undir láta lízt mér Leppur,
laglega það fara má.
Sjálf er ég eins og sigakeppur
og svo er líka hún Skjóða mín.
Grýla kallar á börnin sín.
Ef mér fótur óvart sleppur
upp þá gjöri ég hljóða,
Leppur, Skreppur, Langleggur og Skjóða.
Nú skal Leppur sjálfur sjóða,
sá það verkið dável kann.
Ketilinn Skreppur hefur til hlóða
og hellir á barma staðfullan.
En undir kynda á hún Skjóða
með úlfgrátt hár og síðar brýn.
Grýla kallar á börnin sín,
en Langleggur á að bjóða
öllu liðinu fróða,
Leppur, Skreppur, Langleggur og Skjóða.

- Buddha

  

"The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, worry about the future, or anticipate troubles but to live in the present moment wisely and earnestly."

The Lover Asks Forgiveness Because Of His Many Moods

  
If this importunate heart trouble your peace
With words lighter than air,
Or hopes that in mere hoping flicker and cease;
Crumple the rose in your hair;
And cover your lips with odorous twilight and say,
"O Hearts of wind-blown flame!
O Winds, older than changing of night and day,
That murmuring and longing came
From marble cities loud with tabors of old
In dove-grey faery lands;
From battle-banners, fold upon purple fold,
Queens wrought with glimmering hands;
That saw young Niamh hover with love-lorn face
Above the wandering tide;
And lingered in the hidden desolate place
Where the last Phoenix died,
And wrapped the flames above his holy head;
And still murmur and long:
O piteous Hearts, changing till change be dead
In a tumultuous song':
And cover the pale blossoms of your breast
With your dim heavy hair,
And trouble with a sigh for all things longing for rest
The odorous twilight there.
by William Butler Yeats.

Auðir bíða vegirnir

  
Auðir bíða vegirnir um skóginn
eftir léttum fótum þínum
hljóður bíður vindurinn í dimmunni
eftir björtum lokkum þínum
þögull bíður lækurinn
eftir heitum vörum þínum
grasið bíður döggvott
og fuglarnir þegja í trjánum

augu okkar mætast

milli okkar fljúga svartþrestir
með sólblik á vængjum.


Snorri Hjartarson

The Lily

  
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

by William Blake.

The Lion

  
The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste,
He has a big head and a very small waist;
But his shoulders are stark, and his jaws they are grim,
And a good little child will not play with him.
by Hilaire Belloc.

The Investment

  
Over back where they speak of life as staying
('You couldn't call it living, for it ain't'),
There was an old, old house renewed with paint,
And in it a piano loudly playing.

Out in the plowed ground in the cold a digger,
Among unearthed potatoes standing still,
Was counting winter dinners, one a hill,
With half an ear to the piano's vigor.

All that piano and new paint back there,
Was it some money suddenly come into?
Or some extravagance young love had been to?
Or old love on an impulse not to care--

Not to sink under being man and wife,
But get some color and music out of life?

by Robert Frost.

"Spirit of Entrepreneurship"

  
Breaking free from extremely limited capacities of the present-day physical body and having gotten rid of the limits, a man may embark on a journey to a new knowledge, which is being born in his or her dreams. Nobody and nothing can stop such a man for he or she, having tasted freedom, has touched upon the capacities lying within a man. He or she has understood that life is a permanent creation of perfecting his or her soul through the world matter. It is only in this process that a man is implementing the plan of God – to be a man created after His image. This is the main aim, essence and cause of living - to permanently study how to create the new.

- Augustinas Rakauskas,

Einar Már Guðmundsson

  
saklausu lömbin í biblíunni
eru lærisneiðar á jólunum

A Noiseless Patient Spider

  
A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,--seeking the spheres, to
connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor
hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

by Walt Whitman.

Vér öreigar

  
Eins og ljóð vort er einfalt og auðskilið
og hirðir ekki um rósfjötra rímsins
né fjólublá faguryrði,
heldur sannleikann sjálfan,
eins munum vér berjast til þrautar,
í bróðurlegri, einfaldri alvöru,
unz réttur vor og niðja vorra
til nýs, mannlegs lífs
frelsar
hið fyrirheitna land.

Jóhannes úr Kötlum

- Matthew Fox

  
Looking for and enjoying beauty is a way to nourish the soul. the universe is in the habit of making beauty. There are flowers and songs, snowflakes and smiles, acts of great courage, laughter between friends, a job well done, the smell of fresh-baked bread. Beauty is everywhere.

The Heart Asks Pleasure First

  
The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain-
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

by Emily Dickinson.

When You Are Old

  

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats.