R O C A I L L E S

                                    búrið óttast fuglin
                              hann er ov stórt eitt hjarta
                                     skatturin í himni
                               stoytir renturnar frá sær
                                  náðin svølgir eldin
                              falski vitnisburðurin festi
                                 við lítla sannleikanum
                                   ein blásvørt dúgva
                                      vitjaði málaran
                                   ljósins bleiki trælur
                             vil so fegin fanga mjørkan
                              við einum pensli av grasi
                                 og ger vínið til breyð
                                  og sorgina til steinar
                       sum rotna tá tú gongur á teimum
                            eingin skal oyðileggja tað
                        sum longu er oyðilagt í verðini
                         eingin livir av at vera tekning
                         ella doyr av at vera málningur

                                           je me reflète
                                        dans cette pierre
                                    que dieu m´a donnée
                      un matin dans une nuit très ancienne
                                              lorsque
                                        définitivement
                                   il décida de ne plus
                                              avaler
                                      l´amour tout cru












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