WINDIR LYRICS

1. Byrjing

[The Beggining]

2. Arntor, Ein Windir

Da va i Kaupanger syslemennedn hildt ti,
han Ivar Dape å ain svikar ti.
Han Sverre Sigurdssån dai sverga ti, henta inn skatte,
aojifte å maira ti.
Støao ti Saongdøledn va'kkje hjao svikaren Kong Sverre,
men han Magnus Erlingssån berre.
Han Kong Sverre va redde fø å møssa Sågn,
ti Magnus dan ekta kongssån.
Like før Jol i edlevaaottitri, kravde syslepakke ekstra yting,
ti jolavaisla fø seg sjøl å nåken i.
Blobade skolde trast skji.
Arntor frao Kvaole i spissen, me Isak Torjilssån, sønedn has Arnjeir prest,
Gaute å Karlsshåve.
Dissa staute karadn, Saogndøle,
Aisbyggje å Kaupaongsmenn, gjikk mot syslepakke kvitmessedag.
Arge å fodle ao hat.
Eplekjekke Ivar Dape ba om grid,
Arntor å karadn lyste ut krig.
Itte at øks om håve has svinga, va'kkje da mykje grid atte i bringao.
Aover midnatt va mannadrape, pao tjuvpakk å kjeltringa,
svaiti å han Ivar Dape aover. Å Jol da vart i Saogndal

[English translation:]

Arntor, A Warrior

In Kaupanger the District Governors lived
Ivar Dape and another deceiver
Sworn to Sverre Sigurdsson
They collected taxes, excises and more fees.

The people of Sogndal only supported Magnus
Erlingsson, not the deceiver King Sverre.
The King was afraid to lose Sogn to Magnus the true kingsson.

Close to Christmas 1183
The Governor-filth demanded extra taxes to
Christmas celebrations for themselves and some others.
The bloodbath was about to happen.

Led by Arntor from Kvåle together with Isak
Torgilsson and the sons of Arngeir the priest,
Gaute and Karlshead.

These brave men from Sogndal,
Eide and Kaupanger went against the Governor scum on
Christmas eve angry and full of hate.

The wiseapple Ivar Dape asked for peace
Arntor and his men proclaimed war.
But after the axe his head chopped off,
there wasn’t much peace left in this chest.

Past midnight the killing of thieves, crocks,
servants and Ivar Dape was done.
The celebration of Christmas in Sogndal began.

[Translated by Eli Hilleren]

3. Kong Hydnes Haug

Yst i ran mektige Norafjorn, frao gudn Nor si ti.
Yst i Lomeldi, heimsta Slind vart 'a pao Hydneshaugen
i ran sista helfti ao ra fjera aorhondra lakt ain haug før ain windir.
Ai mannalaonge kjista ao stain so alder breste.
I kjistao ve hass høgre sia ait laongsverd laog,
ai spenna ao bråns kappao hass hildt,
Ve fotendn to lairka me bisk.
Utafø kjistao ve venstre gavlvaiggj, to spjut laog klar, håve vendt mot vest.
Alt ti feri... Men i førra aorhondra ottao børja,
uvitande menn me hoga fø jor,
rødde vekk fjortan aorhondra sjilefri i trihondra børe me stain.
Uvitande dai va om ottao, gudadn sitt raseri skapte.
Dan ivigvarande ottao so framleis herska haimst i Slind dan dag i dag.
Dar e ai bysle stemning, ait mørke follt ao kjainsle,
guda so kan ta frao reg da ain traingje meste, ait sinnelag.
Framleis ha maonge otta før å ferdast mødlo
Saoknardalr å Laikvangir itte kvelda fitabil.
Kong Hydnes haug...

[English translation:]

The Burial Mound Of King Hydnes

Farthest away in the powerful Norafjordr
From the god "Nor" time
Farthest out in Lomeldi, inner Slind
In the last half of the fourth century there was
Made a tomb for a windir on King Hydnes burial mound.

A coffin long as a man made of stone that never breaks.
In the coffin by his right hand side lay a longsword, 
a buckle of bronze held his cape.
By his feet two earthen vessels with supper.

Outside the coffin by the left gable. Wall
two spears lay ready, the head turned westward.
Everything for the journey.

But in the last century fear began,
Ignorant men with lust for land
Cleared 14 centuries with peace of mind
In 300 cords of stone.

Ignorant the were about the fear that the god s rage created
The everlasting fear which still rules
In the far end of Slind even today.

There is a scary mood
A dark full of emotions
Gods who can take from you than you need the
Most - a disposition.

Stil many people has feared to travel between
Soknardalr and Leikvangir after dusk.

The burial mound of King Hydnes

[Translated by Eli Hilleren]

4. Svartesmeden Og Lundamyrstrollet

Svartesmien budde pao Bjeddla i Saogndal.
Da va dai daga dao ra draiv trådl i adle grende,
or haug å hamra, adle staa i frao, å gjore jabnast ubya.
Some hadde tihelde aolmannavegen å skremde live ao farande fålk itte aodaga;
da felaste ao dissa va Lundemyrstrodle so hildt seg pao
Londamyri midt i tjokkaste bøgdi. Svartesmien aotte ait trållsverd,
Flusi nabne va. So hende da ain laurdagskveld at han etla seg pao utfer.
Han stelde seg, stakk Flusi i slirao,
tok ni bakkadn å følde vegen haim onde londadn dar han hadde myri framføre seg.
Ho skjain å blainkte i maonaskjine.
Å no saog han Londamyrstrådle so laog å sov,
styggjele stort å hadde braitt seg midt ut yve myri.
Men dao rann sinne i svartesmien, aotte han makt å sverd,
so fekk han no råyna daim bi gjera ende pao uvite.
Darme raiv han Flusi å rik staole rett i bringao pao ra.
Dao vakna fodla trådle å skvatt opp,
da vrai seg onde styngjen å fraista kvitta seg me sverdet.
"Stikk å drag" skraik trådle å tainkte å fao
Svartesmien ti å dra sverde aott seg atte.
"Lat staonda so staind ti maondags" sa smien,
å darme drog han vegen sin viare ti sjøs.
No laut trådle ti. Dao Svartesmien for haimatte,
va ra daudt, å so stakk han Flusi i slirao.
Men dao åpna ra seg tri porta hiti Låftesnesfjedle,
å utao dai urde å krauk ra trådl, smaoe å store.
"No e bestn daue, no e bestn daue!" skraik rai.
So kom dai å tok Londamyrstrådle mødlo seg å drog ra me aover
fjorn å inn igjøno ran støste portn.
Dar kvark trådlatye.
Siao lit portadn seg atte,
å fjedle gjåymde ra skremlige følgje i faonge sitt.
I laonge tie ittepao ottast fålk å fara her, å helst om kveldadn.
Da blainkte so onderle rao nire pao myri i maonaskjine.
Skrymsledn råyvde seg, å ri tyktest håyra trådlaskrik gjøno daln.
Kan henda trådli va attekåmne.

[English translation:]

[The Blacksmith And The Troll Of Lundamyr]

The blacksmith lived at Bjedla in Sogndal
In the days when trolls roamed in all hamlets
Over hills and mountains; everywhere, and wreaked constant havoc
Some lived by the main roads, and scared the life out of all travelers
The most fearsome of these was the troll of Lyndamyr
Which lived in Lundamyri in the middle of the village

The blacksmith owned a magic sword
Flusi was its name
Then it happened a Saturday evening that he prepared for a journey
He dressed up, put Flusi in its sheath
Went down the hills and followed the road through the forest
Where he had the march in front of him

It shone and gleamed in the moonlight
And now he saw the troll of Lundamyr
It lay there sleeping, terribly gigantic
Stretched across the march

But then anger boiled in the blacksmith
Owning strength and sword he ought to test their strength and put an end to the beast
Thus he drew Flusi
And ran the steel right through its chest
Then the troll awoke with a startle
He twisted in pain and was tempted to get rid of the sword

«Drag and pull» the troll screamed, hoping that the blacksmith would pull the sword out
«Let it be as it is until Monday» said the blacksmith and he continued his journey to the sea

Now the troll was doomed
When the blacksmith went homeward bound, it was dead
And he put Flusi in its sheath
But then three gates opened by the mountains of Låftnes
And out poured and ran big and small trolls
«Grandpa's dead! Grandpa's dead!» they screamed
Then they took the troll of Lundamyri between them
And traveled across the fjord and through the largest gate
There the trolls were crushed
Since then, the gates have remained shut,
And the mountain concealed the hideous band in its embrace.

In times long after people feared visiting the place, especially at night
There was a mysterious glimmer to the march in the moonlight
The fear spread, and one could believe they heard the roaring of trolls through the valleys
Could it be that the trolls had returned?

5. Kampen

Føste gaongen di kom va ra med kvite krist å kråss,
maonge ao åss nekta å ta imot dinna bysle krist,
men nåken ao åss svikta. Jor å stidling i stan før haidn skjikk.
No mao mi ao å lima, ain kamp mot kristne fanta.
Torshammaren vart knuste, irstatta me ain kråss.
Sjonging ao tona, irstatta me bysle or.
Bloting føbåe, irstatta me gustineste.
Håvi vart brende, irstatta me kjørkje.
No mao mi ao å lima, ain kamp mot kristne fanta.
Dan andre gaongen di kom va ra so bedrevitara me sokadla konnskap.
Maonge ao åss nekta å verta so byfanta, nåken ao åss svikta.
Status å innpass i stan før sont bondevit.
No mao mi ao å lima, ain kamp mot byfanta.
Hauga å vådla føsvinde, store bygj å bue.
Spraoke vaort vert utvatna, ao ti å, i ti e.
Bjor å laug, ti søte vin å rapavatn.
Fjøsbrok å trisko, ti vie brøke å tåskne sko.
No mao mi ao å lima, ain kamp mot byfanta.

[English translation:]

[The Battle]

The first time they came was with Jesus Christ and crosses
Many of us refused to accept this weak god
Some of betrayed, land and positions,
Instead of Heathen customs

Now we have to gather, a battle against Christian bastards

Thor's hammer was crushed, replaced with a cross
Singing and tones, replaced with weak words
Blot was forbidden, replaced with religious service
Holy places were scorched, replaced with churches

Now we have to gather, a battle against Christian bastards

The second time the came, was as know-it-alls with so-called knowledge
Many of us refused to become like city-men
Some of us betrayed, status and foothold
Instead of the true common sense

Now we have to gather, a battle against city bastards

Hills and fields disappeared, big buildings and houses
Our language was thinned out: ao to å, and i to e
Mead and water to sweet wine and champagne
Barns pants and clogs, to wide pants and idiotic shoes

Now we have to gather, a battle against city bastards

6. Saknet

Mørke spaigla mine kjainsle, men da e ait hål i spaiggedl.
Ait hål so ikkje enda, akkorat so sakne i sjeli mi.
Håle e so sakne i sjeli mi. Sakne e so håle, endelaust...
Sakne itte nåke inårmt so eg hadde, da eg hadde va lika stort so sakne,
inårmt... Eg lika smerte, men eg lika ra igentle ikkje...
Eg skrike, men eg skrike igentle ikkje...
Eg dåyr, men eg dåyr igentle ikkje...
Eg sakna... Fø meg e mørke so dagen fø deg å ri andre.
Fø meg e dagen so mørke fø deg å ri andre.
Fø meg e skrike so lattern fø deg å ri andre.
Fø meg e dauen so live fø deg å ri andre.
Dystert da e, å tainkja slik, dystert da e, å vera slik,
dystert da e, å liva slik, dystert da e, eg lika ra slik...
Dystert e ra å dystert ska ra vera. Mørt e ra å mørt ska ra vera.
Ont e ra å ont ska ra vera. Sakne e rar, men da ska rar ikkje vera...
Da ain ikkje bør gjera e da eg sakna meste,
da ain ikkje bør saia e da eg sakna meste, du skjønna kå eg maina,
da e deg eg sakna adle meste...
Da eg ha møst ha saora, da vi'kkje bedra seg me aori.
Da ha berra våre ont, å sakna ha våre tongt.
Smerte, no lika e'ra... Skrik, no skrike eg...
Dau, no dåyr eg... Sakn, eg sakna reg...
Eg dåyr fø'ra eg sakna... Å eg sakna itte dauen..

[English translation:]

[The Longing]

The darkness mirrors my feelings, but there's a hole in the mirror.
A hole that never ends, just like the longing in my soul
The hole is like the longing in my soul.
The longing is like the hole, endless.
The longing after something enormous that I had,
What I had was as big as the longing enormous.

I like pain, but I don't really like it.
I scream, but I don't really scream
I'm dying, but I'm not really dying
I miss.

Before me is darkness, like the day is before you and the others
Before me is the day, like the darkness before you and the others
Before me is the scream, like the laughter before you and the others
Before me is death, like life is before you and the others

Gloomy is it, to think like this, gloomy is it to be like this,
Gloomy is it, to live like this, gloomy it is, I like it that way
Gloomy is it and gloomy shall it be.
Dark is it and dark shall it be.
Painful is it and painful shall it be.

The longing is the, but that shall not be.
What you shall not do is what I miss the most
What you shall not say is what I miss the most, you understand what I mean
It's you I miss most of all...

What I've lost have hurted, it won't get better as the years go by
It has only been painful, and the longing has been heavy
Pain, now I like it... Scream, now I scream...
Die, now I die... Longing, I miss you...
I die because I miss... And I don't miss death

[English translation #2 by Eli Hilleren:]

The darkness reflect my emotions
but there is a hollowness in the reflection
A hollowness that does not end
just like the longing of my soul

The hollowness is like the longing in my soul
The longing is like the hole, endless
The longing after something tremendous that I had
What I had was just as great as the longing: enormous

I enjoy pain but I don't really like it...
I scream but I don't really scream...
I die but I don't really die...
I long...

The dark is for me like the day for you and the others
The day is for me like the night for you and the others
The scream is for me like laughter for you and the others
Death is for me like life for you and the others

Dismal it is to think this way
Dismal it is to be this way
Dismal it is to live this way
Dismal it is, I enjoy it this way...

Dismal it is and dismal it shall be
Dark it is and dark it shall be
Evil it is and evil it shall be
The longing is there, but it should not be there...

What one should not do, I long for the most
What one should not say, I long for the most
You know what I mean,
It is you that I long for the most...

What I lost has hurt
It will never end
It has always been painful
And the longing has been hard

Pain: now I like it...
Scream: now I scream...
Death: now I die...
Longing: I long for you...

I die because I long, and I don't long for death...

7. Ending

Eg haite Terje Bakken, Bjørg ho e mi mor og Vegard e min bror
Budde pao aijn plass dar ingen skolde tru, at nåken konde bu
Og plassn haite Eggja, Gorvin, Stemmehaugen, Gjaitaskaddl, Kvaole

Og vinteren kan jamt ikkje vera oss for god med frost og fok og snjo;
då kan det ofte over dei fjorten dagar gå som me ikkje folk får sjå.
Og plassen heiter Uren, Luren, Himmelturen,
Steinrøys, Steinrøys, Svelt-i-hel!







WINDIR LYRICS