To the north # 46109
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From the north. Poem by Davíð Stefánsson from Fagraskógur.
Praise for the cows
They come out of their barn, one by one,
with Olympian calm, wrapped in morning glow.
Every step is like stepping on a stone,
and groan under the burden of the heaviest mysteries.
They walk slowly, as befits sacred animals,
and don't care about anything that concerns the cowherd.
No one knows what they want or think,
whether their hope is for heaven or earth.
Praise for the cows
They come out of their barn, one by one,
with Olympian calm, wrapped in morning glow.
Every step is like stepping on a stone,
and groan under the burden of the heaviest mysteries.
They walk slowly, as befits sacred animals,
and don't care about anything that concerns the cowherd.
No one knows what they want or think,
whether their hope is for heaven or earth.