Friday, March 19, 2010

This post is a tribute to trees

I love trees,
in every shape and shade
And one of the best parts of
it all is that you can climb them
And sit high up in the top and
smell the scent of the tree
and listen to the brush
of the leaves in the wind
and look far, far away from your little hide in the top
Life alwasy is wonderful when you are in a tree

I think I am secretly in love with trees

Var jeg et tre

Av Arnulf Øverland

Var jegt et tre,
hadde jeg stille gleder.
Det vilde komme til meg fra fjerne steder,
bare jeg lot det skje.
Fuglene bodde hos mig og bygget reder,
– jeg kunde stå ved en vei:
trette menneskebarn skulde trygge
søke min skygge;
alt vilde komme til mig!

Blest vilde bruse i mig,
bier bære mitt støv,
dagene drive forbi mig,
nettene dugge mitt løv!

Hen over jorden skrider
årets tider.
De skulde gjennemstrømme mig, alle.
Frukt skulde tynge mig
og mine blader falle,
våren atter forynge mig!
Under de stumme stjernene
skulde jeg sove min søvn i sne,
var jeg et tre!

If I was a tree

If I was a tree
silent joys would I have
From afar they would come to me
if I only let it be
The birds would live and build nests in me
I could stand by a road
tired children could comfortly seek
my shadow
everything would come to me!

The wind would brush in me
my pollen be carried by bees
slowly the days drift away
the nights make dew on my leaves!

All over earth travels
the seasons of time
All they would fill me
Heavy with fruits I would be
and my leaves would fall to the ground
the spring would again renew me
Under the silent stars
I would sleep my dreams in snow
if I was a tree!

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Night magic

~ A re-post from 2006

I ran through the forest, felt the soft and cold touch of the winter night.
In my mind the old symbols whispered through me, and came out as figures in the dark.
An animal cried out so softly from a hill, the spirits of the forest whispered in my mind.
I left the path and got lost behind the trees. Without a road, I was walking, between the smell of wet leaves. In the shimmering dew from an old oak tree I sat down.
I could feel the old symbols coming to me, touching who I was, deeply. I could see her white feet, glimmering in the dark night, like moonlight. She bore red berries in her hair, and leaves she carried as a bouquet, as if it was her wedding day. I could feel his presence behind a rock, he was standing there, watching me, silently. This is the night when you can return. This is the night you can remember. Don't forget. This is the night you can live the life of your fantasies. They made love in the wet grass. A unity of the powers from within. The meltdown of the opposites, creating a balance. The world is what you see. In your eyes you create your own life. Which life do you choose it to be?

Run out in the night
~ Aasa