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Stuðlamál. Poem by Einar Beinteinsson.
The waterfall
I greet you my friend, beautiful waterfall,
You received peace as a cradle gift.
When the sun's rays kiss your silver hair
you sing with a childish voice.
But you were sad when I fell into your arms
the freezing cold of winter linen.
And when the thorn tightened its grip too tightly
then your singing voice faltered.
The waterfall
I greet you my friend, beautiful waterfall,
You received peace as a cradle gift.
When the sun's rays kiss your silver hair
you sing with a childish voice.
But you were sad when I fell into your arms
the freezing cold of winter linen.
And when the thorn tightened its grip too tightly
then your singing voice faltered.