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Political issues. Poem by Lárus Sigurjónsson.
In Mánudagsblaðið 7.yr. 28.isl. 1954. There is an article by Pétur Jakobsson who had just finished reading Stefjamál Lárusar. In it Pétur says, among other things:
We all know it so well that it's nothing new.
that the silver vessels sink, but that which is made of lighter
material floats on top. I think
This is proven in the poetry book.
Stefjamál. About her and the author
hers is and has been
far too quiet. I myself may
shame on me, that's poetic
man and mess with
poetry writing, not having before
but now sits at the author's feet
and learn his wisdom.
The author of the Book of Songs,
Stefjamál, Lárus Sigurjónsson,
was born on August 14, 1874,
and therefore eighty. He is highly educated
man, became a student
1903, candidate of theology
1906, attended Askov Secondary School 1906
—1907, attended a course in ethics
and rhetoric at the University of Chicago, studied pronunciation and
vocal training at Orchard-school of music and Expression
in Chicago and among others
he worked and ran a singing school
in Chicago at half past one
decade.
The author of the Policy left
young outside, as they say,
and has spent most of
his life far from his
ancestral and half-lost
us at home in Frón, because
even though he has now been moved home
and wish to receive a burial place where
His cradle was.
I have read the poetry book.
Political issue. It's about her.
It's a shame to say that she is
not easy. The book is full of
human wisdom, born under hardship
and heavy burdens and
endowed with a vigorous speech, but
This is accompanied by treatment.
the best taste and application
clever in the matter.
Lárus Sigurjónsson is a man of original words and thought,
poetic at times, but
above all a good photographer
in his poems.
I've been tired for a long time.
me in the Icelandic homeland
poetry by a poet
which LS resembled, but it
is difficult to find. However, I would like to point out
that the distinction in poetry is
with them, Lárus Sigurjónssýn
and Gisli Brynjolfsson and
is then far from equal. Would
although it is very wrong to count LS
Stealing GB, but it's no secret to anyone
a wise man, who
reads the poems of both, that they are
mentally separated.
The poetry book Stefjamál, is
printed on the finest
paper, has 190 pages
Baptismal break and has inside
hold 136 poems.
I don't have that much control.
paper space, that I can take here
composed many poems from Stefjamála,
which is then tempting, but
in that regard I am very
problem at hand, because the book is
so even goodbye.
At random I want to take
the following, which is however far from
therefore, to be a selection, but shall
clearly stated that the book is
even goodbye and nothing
There is a poem in the book that is considered
can clay roll, I take here
the poem Summer Night on page 128,
as follows:
Feels light on the cheeks
sweet mountain breeze.
Flowers by the path smell sweet,
A jar of honey in a jar is growing. —
Welcomes guests, dear foster land!
Sun in the arms of the Sea
sleeps red as blood,
under a birch tree
the song of the dozing bird. —
Mother Earth, you are the mother of all.
good!
Under the hammer of a hammer
I rest my soul. —
Streams of waterfalls and falls
forward along the hillside. —
The fatherland embraces the son
time.
Who can defeat sleep?
on a summer night,
when the pleasures
everything around is possible. get?
Mother Earth, how beautiful you are.
It is peaceful in the mountains,
Dear foster land.
Linda and Lækjai. Accent!
attracts a tourist,
elf and hidden inside the shrine.
The grass is soft and green,
It's good here.
That's where I choose to live.
grow slowly.
A sweaty blackbird bites dewy straw.
Under hill and dale
Hidden away stands a town,
Beautiful mountain space,
I care about your freedom.
Over the gleam of the dew, the toes are covered.
Here I forget sorrows,
This is my sanctuary.
No evil lurks
is about your kingdom.
In you the heart longs for its homeland.
It's good to be outside.
ode on a summer night,
comes to mind a lot
picture, then everything is silent.
That's why I have one at the meeting.
yours.
Together the calm streams flow,
Desires merge,
a world of two hearts
dew and tears. —
This soothes all my wounds.
In Mánudagsblaðið 7.yr. 28.isl. 1954. There is an article by Pétur Jakobsson who had just finished reading Stefjamál Lárusar. In it Pétur says, among other things:
We all know it so well that it's nothing new.
that the silver vessels sink, but that which is made of lighter
material floats on top. I think
This is proven in the poetry book.
Stefjamál. About her and the author
hers is and has been
far too quiet. I myself may
shame on me, that's poetic
man and mess with
poetry writing, not having before
but now sits at the author's feet
and learn his wisdom.
The author of the Book of Songs,
Stefjamál, Lárus Sigurjónsson,
was born on August 14, 1874,
and therefore eighty. He is highly educated
man, became a student
1903, candidate of theology
1906, attended Askov Secondary School 1906
—1907, attended a course in ethics
and rhetoric at the University of Chicago, studied pronunciation and
vocal training at Orchard-school of music and Expression
in Chicago and among others
he worked and ran a singing school
in Chicago at half past one
decade.
The author of the Policy left
young outside, as they say,
and has spent most of
his life far from his
ancestral and half-lost
us at home in Frón, because
even though he has now been moved home
and wish to receive a burial place where
His cradle was.
I have read the poetry book.
Political issue. It's about her.
It's a shame to say that she is
not easy. The book is full of
human wisdom, born under hardship
and heavy burdens and
endowed with a vigorous speech, but
This is accompanied by treatment.
the best taste and application
clever in the matter.
Lárus Sigurjónsson is a man of original words and thought,
poetic at times, but
above all a good photographer
in his poems.
I've been tired for a long time.
me in the Icelandic homeland
poetry by a poet
which LS resembled, but it
is difficult to find. However, I would like to point out
that the distinction in poetry is
with them, Lárus Sigurjónssýn
and Gisli Brynjolfsson and
is then far from equal. Would
although it is very wrong to count LS
Stealing GB, but it's no secret to anyone
a wise man, who
reads the poems of both, that they are
mentally separated.
The poetry book Stefjamál, is
printed on the finest
paper, has 190 pages
Baptismal break and has inside
hold 136 poems.
I don't have that much control.
paper space, that I can take here
composed many poems from Stefjamála,
which is then tempting, but
in that regard I am very
problem at hand, because the book is
so even goodbye.
At random I want to take
the following, which is however far from
therefore, to be a selection, but shall
clearly stated that the book is
even goodbye and nothing
There is a poem in the book that is considered
can clay roll, I take here
the poem Summer Night on page 128,
as follows:
Feels light on the cheeks
sweet mountain breeze.
Flowers by the path smell sweet,
A jar of honey in a jar is growing. —
Welcomes guests, dear foster land!
Sun in the arms of the Sea
sleeps red as blood,
under a birch tree
the song of the dozing bird. —
Mother Earth, you are the mother of all.
good!
Under the hammer of a hammer
I rest my soul. —
Streams of waterfalls and falls
forward along the hillside. —
The fatherland embraces the son
time.
Who can defeat sleep?
on a summer night,
when the pleasures
everything around is possible. get?
Mother Earth, how beautiful you are.
It is peaceful in the mountains,
Dear foster land.
Linda and Lækjai. Accent!
attracts a tourist,
elf and hidden inside the shrine.
The grass is soft and green,
It's good here.
That's where I choose to live.
grow slowly.
A sweaty blackbird bites dewy straw.
Under hill and dale
Hidden away stands a town,
Beautiful mountain space,
I care about your freedom.
Over the gleam of the dew, the toes are covered.
Here I forget sorrows,
This is my sanctuary.
No evil lurks
is about your kingdom.
In you the heart longs for its homeland.
It's good to be outside.
ode on a summer night,
comes to mind a lot
picture, then everything is silent.
That's why I have one at the meeting.
yours.
Together the calm streams flow,
Desires merge,
a world of two hearts
dew and tears. —
This soothes all my wounds.