The Devil weds a widow Death another's leftovers Better to lie on a willows Rest on alder boughs Than upon a widow's bed Used woman's pillow Sweeter
Long evenings full of longing Low-spirited my mornings Full of longing too my nights And all the time the bitterest. 'Tis my lovely I long for It is my
Many rocks the rapid has A lot of billows the sea More plentiful are my cares Than cones on a spruce Beard moss on a juniper Gnarls upon a pine bark Knobs
Old folk remember And those today learn How before their time Life was different here Without the sun people lived Groped about without the moon With
What the thrush toils at, the partridge asks for The hapless one takes, the troubled one steals Puts upon a spade, sets on a runner Hides under a door
The calloo's spirits are low Swimming on the chill water But the orphan's are lower Walking down the village street The sparrow's belly is chill Sitting
Long evenings full on longing Low-spirited my mornings Full of longing too my nights And all times the bitterest. 'Tis my lovely I long for It is my darling
Перевод: Amorphis. Элегия.
: Better it would be for me And better it would have been Had I not been born, not grown Not been brought into the world Not had to come to this earth
: Old folk remember And those today learn How before their time Life was different here: Without the sun people lived Groped about without the moon
: The calloo's spirits are low Swimming on the chill water But the orphan's are lower Walking down the village street. The sparrow's belly is chill
: Many rocks the rapid has A lot of billows the sea More plentiful are my cares Then cones on a spruce Beard moss on a juniper Gnarls upon a pine bark
: Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense Who say that music reckon that the kantele Was fashioned by a god Out of a great pike's shoulders From a water
: Long evenings full on longing Low-spirited my mornings Full of longing too my nights And all times the bitterest. 'Tis my lovely I long for It is my
: What the thrush toils at The partridge asks for The hapless one takes The troubled one steals Puts upon a spade Sets on a runner Hides under a door
: The Devils weds a widow Death another's leftovers Better to lie on a willows Rest on alder boughs Then upon a widow's bed On a used woman's pillow
: Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense Who say that music reckon that the kantele Was fashioned by God Out of a great pike's shoulders From a water
: In the vale where I once listened out for the light Where the little birds warble The ptarmigans babble And my heart looked for some rest from its
