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01.04.2005
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Skrevet: 07.04.2005 16:49:06
For us English-speaking friends that might have an interest in Norse mythologi, here is a piece from Voluspå that I stunt-translated to an English colleague once:
-Listen to me, you, the holy generations!
Big ones and small ones, the sons of Heimdal!
Willt thou, the father of the battlefield,
that I with eloquence will tell to you,
the old wisdom of bold men,
the very first that I remember?
I can remember the Jotuns,
borne in the age when the world was young,
those who raised me long ago.
Nine worlds can I remember,
Nine worlds with a content.
The mighty three of destiny,
hidden in the dark dirty soil.
In the origin of the times,
when Ymer lived,
was neither sand nor sea,
nor mild breezes of waves.
Earth did not exist,
nor heaven above,
the only thing that existed,
was Ginnunga gap,
and signs of grass nowhere.
By the places of the sons of Bor,
arised settlements, places of signs of livings,
those who created the world of Midgard, the mighty world.
The sun shined from the sun,
on the rocks on the floors,
and then the ground grewed
with green leek.
The sun arised from the South,
joined together with the moon,
the right hand across the border of the heaven,
the sun did not knew, that she had the properties
of rooms.
The stars did not knew where to stand,
the moon did not knew which powers she had.
Then all the mighty ones approached
to the parliament seats.
The holy gods were now conducting sessions.
Names they handed out,
to the night and the morning.
Named it morning and noon,
afternoon and evening,
and the numbers of the years.
the Asirs met
on the hill of Ida.
And loads of noise could be heard,
sounds from the tools of a carpenter.
They joined together treasures,
with hammers and convenient tools.
And beneath can you compare with a translation written by the one who possess mother tongue - competency:
1. Hearing I ask from the holy races,
From Heimdall’s sons, both high and low;
Thou wilt, Valfather, that well I relate
Old tales I remember of men long ago. (*)
2. I remember yet the giants of yore,
Who gave me bread in the days gone by;
Nine worlds I knew, the nine in the Tree
With mighty roots beneath the mold. (*)
3. Of old was the age when Ymir lived;
Sea nor cool waves nor sand there were;
Earth had not been nor heaven above,
But a yawning gap, and grass nowhere (*)
4. Then Bur’s sons lifted the level land;
Mithgarth the mighty there they made;
The sun from the south warmed the stones of the earth,
And green was the ground with growing leeks. (*)
5.The sun, the sister of the moon, from the south
Her right hand cast over heaven’s rim;
No knowledge she had where her home should be,
The moon knew not what might was his,
The stars knew not where their stations were.
6.Then sought the gods their assembly-seats,
The holy ones, and council held;
Names then gave they to noon and twilight,
Morning they named, and the waning moon,
Night and evening, the years to number. (*)
7.At Ithavoll met the mighty gods,
Shrines and temples they timbered high;
Forges they set, and they smithied ore,
Tongs were wrought, and tools they fashioned. (*)
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