#Icelandic translation

[whilereadingandwalking]

Herostories by Kristín Svava Tómasdóttir, translated from the Icelandic by K.B. Thors, is a novel-in-verse of found poetry, drawn from a history of midwives in Iceland, traversing frigid, brutal climates to help people deliver their babies, both lauded and isolated, both integral to society and outside of it, transgressing the boundaries of gender. It's interesting, and has the Icelandic beside the English as well as an interview and note from the author and translator that is really interesting and enlightening.

[yourdailyqueer]

Guðbergur Bergsson

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

DOB: 16 October 1932  

Ethnicity: White - Icelandic

Occupation: Writer, translator, teacher

[starlene]

To complete tonight's mental chaos, I'm also thinking about how Jekyll and Utterson had a back-to-formal-you moment in That Finnish Production Of Jekyll & Hyde That Made Me Insane.

Just so you know, I guess!!

[unityrain24]

does anyone know if icelandic has a phrase for "happy pride month" and how to say it please T^T ??

[sinni-ok-sessi]

As we have established, I have Can't Shut Up Disease about the Bjarna-Dísa folktale and so I've spent most of this evening making a rough translation, the better to not shut up about it. My Icelandic is a little rusty at this point, so if you spot any parts I've obviously misunderstood, do let me know.

You can read the Icelandic online here, which I'm fairly sure is just a transcription of the text from Jón Árnason's Íslenzkar Þjóðsögur.

You can listen to Snorri Helgason's haunting (haha) song version here on his Bandcamp. The entire Margt býr í þokunni album is a collection of songs inspired by Icelandic folklore, would very much recommend.

Finally, you can find my translation of Bjarna-Dísa below the cut. I'm not sure how best to content warn for it other than to say that it's an Icelandic ghost story where the weather may actually be scarier than the ghost.

EDIT: apparently I'm doing more of these:

The Deacon of Myrká

Bjarna-Dísa

There was a man called Bjarni, the son of Þorsteinn. He was born in the late 18th century and lived until 1840. He had a sister called Þordís. She was about twenty when this story took place.

Þordís was pleasing in appearance, but was considered rather arrogant in attitude. She made a great deal of her clothing and imitated as best she could the fashions of Danish ladies, and she stayed at Eskifjörður marketplace in the last year of her life.

It so happened that Bjarni Þorsteinsson travelled down into Eskifjörður, and Þordís then joined her brother on his journey and planned to go with him to Seyðisfjörður, where Bjarni then lived.

Nothing is told of their journey before they took up lodgings at Þrándarstaðir in Eiðaþinghá. That was in the first half of Þorri [late winter]. They were there for one night. But the next morning, when they wanted to go pass over Fjarðarheiði, the weather was thick with snow and frost. Bjarni told his sister that she should stay behind, because the weather was unreliable and she was dressed for looks and not for protection.

She was in a simple linen dress and linen undershirt, sleeveless from the elbows down. She called it a serk and wanted no other kind of shirt. She had a cloth headdress, red and brown, and her hands and feet were poorly clad.

Dísa was not pleased to sit waiting. She declared that she should go with him, whether he would or no. They fell into an argument, and so set off both in poor humour, and made their way up onto the heath, in spite of the fact that the weather was growing worse and worse.

Now it came to pass that Bjarni had no idea where he was going, and Dísa grew weary from both cold and exertion, and always she complained that she was exhausted from all this walking; then Bjarni began to dig a cave into a snowdrift and when he had finished, it seemed to him that there was a gap in a gravel bank a little way away; then he said to Dísa that he wanted to go over there and see if he recognised the gravel bank. She asked him not to leave her, but it was no use.

So Bjarni went, but then the weather closed in; he thus found neither the gravel bank, nor Dísa again; nonetheless, he carried on indecisively until he crawled, barely awake, into Fjörður in Seyðisfjörður that evening, almost completely without strength, speechless and very scraped up around his face. He had gone astray past the mountain and fallen into brambles and ravines, lost his hat and was generally in a bad way.

At that time, there lived in Fjörður a farmer who was called Þorvaldur Ögmundsson. He was well thought of, powerfully strong and very brave. Those who knew him said that he knew no fear. He was straightforward and even-tempered, intelligent and the best man to ask for a favour.

He received Bjarni well and had him nursed back to health as best he could. And it was not until the next evening that Bjarni was able to tell the tale of his journey, so exhausted was he. Then he begged Þorvaldur to prepare himself to search for his sister; but the weather continued the same as ever. It was weather from the north, very harsh and dark, and so much frost that it was hardly possible for a strong man to find his way home between the houses. So Bjarni was there for two more nights, but on the fifth day after he parted from Dísa, the weather calmed a little.

Then they prepared themselves for the journey, Þorvaldur, Bjarni and a labourer by the name of Jón Bjarnason, a hard-working man and a good fellow; they made their way up to the heath, but a little way from the common route, because it was Bjarni’s guess that that would be the best place to search for Dísa.

When they had come north of Stafdalsfell, they heard a scream so loud that it resounded through all the nearby mountains. Jón and Bjarni were shocked but not terrified, and Þorvaldur did not know what it was to be afraid. He headed in the direction from which the sound had come, until he was east of Stafdalur. His companions had begun to fall behind. Then Þorvaldur questioned Jón’s courage to get him to keep up.

By then, the day had ended, and the weather was somewhat bright, and bitter frost came driving at them; the moon shone down and clouds passed overhead; thus the time passed. Then Þorvaldur saw something in a snowdrift, where he had had no hope of finding anything, though the area was well-known to him. There was a grassy hill stretching away from them.

Then he said to the others, “Þordís must be there now,” and it was as he said.

So he went to her. She was not at that time lying down, as he would have expected from a dead person, but rather she was positioned most like when people are sitting in a chair; the linen dress was tented around her middle and frozen in spikes, and she was bare below and bareheaded, the snow-house blown away so that you could only see the bottom of it.

Þorvaldur spoke then to his companions, saying that they should approach and help each other to arrange the corpse on a skin which he had brought with them for transportation. They dragged it towards him. Then he told Bjarni to cut the frozen covering off her, because he wanted to dress her in trousers, which he had with him, so she was not naked as they carried her. Bjarni did as he was told, though he was afraid.

Then Þorvaldur lifted her up in his arms and intended to dress her in the trousers, but at this, she let out such a great howl that it overpowered him; Þorvaldur has said that it seemed to him impossibly strong and mighty.

His companions recoiled from deadly fear, but Þorvaldur reacted thus: he put Dísa down hard and said rather quickly: “No good are you, Dísa, to struggle like this, because I am not at all afraid, and if you carry on like this, then you will find out that I shall tear your apart nerve by nerve and then throw your body to the wolves; on the other hand, if you behave agreeably for us while we carry you and we have no trouble getting you down, then I shall make a coffin for you and bury you in a Christian grave, though I imagine you aren’t worthy of such a thing.”

After that, he took her, dressed her and arranged her on the skin, called his companions to him and made his way home.

(Other stories say that Þorvaldur may have broken Dísa’s back to make her be quiet, and thus she stopped howling. There are many other ugly stories about their exchange. Þorvaldur was a decent, honest man, but superstitious like many in the 18th century, and the story he told himself must be the most accurate.

(The stories say that Dísa and Bjarni had had a cask of strong spirits. Dísa may have been drunk, but alive, and Þorvaldur dealt with her out of superstitious fury.))

Þorvaldur had seen that the tracks from Dísa’s lair were like this: that she had walked, so that each path was different, to about four fathoms away and then leapt backwards in a single leap with both feet, back into her den, and she had done this twice. Hermann of Fjörður in Mjóafjörður, who was called very wise, has said that this was the habit of those who walked after death, and they needed to do it three times in order to become full revenants, but Dísa lacked the third path.

Now they carried on down from the heath; the weather was so dark overhead that it was hard to find their way, yet they arrived unharmed at Fjarðarsel; it was then a short way out to Fjörður over the shoulder of the mountain, but Þorvaldur did not trust himself to find his way along the fjord; he asked for lodgings for him and his companions. But the farmer refused; he said that he had become wary of the unpleasant spirit that followed them.

Then Þorvaldur began to make arrangements: he set the body in a shed across from the doors to the living quarters and went into the living quarters with his companions, and the farmer sat with his son on the edge of the sleeping platform. Both of these two were called Björn; they each held a spiked walking stick in their hands and paced back and forth in front of the door. Thus they continued into the night. Þorvaldur did not become sleepy, and did not undress, but went out alone to look at the weather. One time during the night, when he wanted to turn back to the main building, Dísa appeared before him in the doorway, as though she wanted to follow him inside, but he turned her away and hurried into the living quarters.

With the coming of day, the weather quietened, so that they were able to reach Fjörður. The hut in which Dísa had spent the night was scratched as though by claws. Now Þorvaldur went to a coffin-maker, just as he had promised, and had Dísa brought to Dvergasteinn. The priest there at that time was Þorsteinn Jónsson the poet (d. 1800). He offered Dísa burial in the Christian manner. But it so happened that the next morning there was a strangely deep hole at the foot of Dísa’s resting place; the hole was filled, but in the morning it was open again. Again it was filled, and yet again, on the third morning, it was open as before. Then the priest himself came and said a blessing over the hole. Men say that from that point on, it did not re-open.

Now it must be told about Bjarni, that henceforth, whenever he intended to sleep, Dísa came and tried to take him by the throat, and this was no secret because both the blind and the sighted saw her. Men also said that she had often attacked him, even in the light. Then he went to Father Þorsteinn, who was mentioned before, and received some kind of protection from him, so that Dísa never succeeded in hurting Bjarni himself.

Bjarni had thirteen children, and they all died young and quickly. Men have it as true that Dísa must have hastened all of their deaths. She followed Bjarni until his dying day and often made her presence felt: killed living people, and sometimes attacked men, and there are many tales told of her tricks that would be too long to relate here.

And thus ends the story of Bjarna-Dísa, and the story here is written as it was told by Þorvaldur himself.

[hatari-translations]

Þamba drullu (Chug Mud) - transcript/translation

This is the very early Hatari demo, from before Einar joined the band, that is played in episode four of Seasons of Friendship. The lyrics are only a few lines repeated, but I have transcribed and translated them anyway!

Icelandic transcript

Botnleðja samfélagsins lekur yfir tærnar þínar Víndreggjar hóruglasa eru lepjaðir af götubörnum Hatursmenn allra landa sameinast undir einum hatti og þamba drullu og þamba drullu og þamba drullu

Botnleðja samfélagsins lekur yfir tærnar þínar og þamba drullu Víndreggjar hóruglasa eru lepjaðir af götubörnum Hatursmenn allra landa sameinast undir einum hatti og þamba drullu

Víndreggjar hóruglasa eru lepjaðir af götubörnum Hatursmenn allra manna sameinast undir einum hatti og þamba drullu og þamba drullu og þamba drullu og þamba drullu og þamba drullu

Transcription notes

Maybe I've got the glasses of whores wrong; I have asked. There is another possibility that it's somehow playing on the similar English word 'hourglass'.

English translation

The bottom sludge of society leaks over your toes The last drops of wine from the glasses of whores are lapped up by street orphans The haters of all countries unite under one banner and chug mud and chug mud and chug mud

The bottom sludge of society leaks over your toes The last drops of wine from the glasses of whores are lapped up by street orphans The haters of all countries unite under one banner and chug mud

The last drops of wine from the glasses of whores are lapped up by street orphans The haters of all men unite under one banner and chug mud and chug mud and chug mud and chug mud and chug mud

Translation notes

The grammar of the second line is a bit amusingly funky; the correct word form for "lepjaðir" there is "laptir" (lepjaðir is giving the verb a weak declension), and that's also the masculine form while víndreggjar is a feminine word (but looks like it could be masculine). Those are both perfectly reasonable honest mistakes, especially for someone speaking (or screaming) off the cuff with little time to double-check their first intuitions!

Otherwise the lyrics are very much in line with the vibes of Hatari's (especially earlier) lyrics - this is very reminiscent of "X", for instance - but a bit less coherent and make less sense. Which is only to be expected from a first effort, of course - a seed of what will be, but a rough, unpolished, less focused version of it. Getting to see this is a gem and I'm very tickled the guys felt like showing it to us!

[daisymeade]

Devastated that I legally cannot name my Rook Myrkur because my Inquisitor and Hawke are already Meridis and Marion respectfully.

[kratosnaturals]

Deyr fé, deyja frændr, deyr sjálfr it sama, en orðstírr deyr aldregi, hveim er sér góðan getr. Deyr fé, deyja frændr, deyr sjálfr it sama, ek veit einn at aldri deyr, dómr um dauðan hvern.

If Miraak had to translate it to the modern tongue for anyone, it‘d mean as much as;

Cattle die, kinsmen die, thyself too soon must die, but one thing never, I ween, will die, fair fame of one who has earned. Cattle die, kinsmen die, thyself too soon must die, but one thing never, I ween, will die, the doom on each one dead.

Just two verses of a much larger collection of ancient poetry - such was taught to every atmoran child since their holy ancestors‘ time. They do not understand it however, for what is such poetry to the simple mind of a child?

He himself did not understand his elders words for a long, long time. Only when he finally came of age did he realise that those honeyed words were simply well-worded motivation to stick to what he was taught and not stray from the path of a great, obedient priest.

The true meaning did not matter, really. His father had such a way with words, after all; to drive the stake of fear into his sons heart. He would always find a way to teach his child a valuable lesson, preferably with a whip or his deep, booming growl of a voice.

Being trapped in Apocrypha gave him countless lifetimes to reflect on those words. Of great men and their lives, of their conquests, of superior morality, to heed the lessons taught by ones elders and life.

He memorised every verse, every sentence, every word. He studied the old scrolls of poetry like a scholar, a poet, a critic. He‘d whisper it among himself and the mute Seekers like a mantra.

Until he finally understood their meaning, much too late to aid him in his life -

Gráðugr halr, nema geðs viti, etr sér aldrtrega; oft fær hlægis er með horskum kemr, manni heimskum magi. If Miraak had to translate it to the modern tongue for anyone, it‘d mean as much as; A greedy man, if he be not mindful, eats to his own life's hurt; oft the belly of the fool will bring him to scorn, when he seeks the circle of the wise.

He stopped studying the poems then, more inclined to undo the choices he made in his mortal life; to reclaim all that he had lost, all that was ripped from him.

So he lay down the torn scrolls of parchment, no more gazes cast upon the smeared, eroding ink, and made corrupted gold his new face; he who would defy his master again. He would reclaim his freedom; through blood and death, out of the ashes and dust of his regrets.

Now up! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/52995712/chapters/134067436)

[milorits]

Map of Eternia

Finally did some cartography and made a map of my world Eternia. They're based of of seasons!

Carrd

[aisling-saoirse]

Lambadalsskarð, Iceland - October 9th 2023

[driftwooddestiel]

one of my personal favourite scenes from jar city (2006)

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

I’ve been learning Norwegian with books and Duolingo for the last (almost) year and every time I read “helgen” I instantly think of the exact opposite of what I’m supposed to think of. Practicing Norwegian? Think of Skyrim. Playing Skyrim? Why is this town named “the weekend”? I can’t win. The wrong one is always the first to come to mind

[mackmp3]

also new Sigur Rós out today! (icelandic ambient post-rock band)

(my friend saw them live and said it felt like being underwater)

[sinileijona]

þú ert klámstrákur

[itty-britty-blog]

This seems like a good time to remind the world of Makt Myrkanna, or Powers of Darkness, the insane Icelandic Dracula fanfic by Valdimar Ásmundsson that managed to pass itself off as just a regular translation for OVER 100 YEARS and no one noticed.

Anyway, it’s a great read, check it out

[hatari-translations]

JóiPé and Króli - Tveir koddar (Two Pillows) - transcript/translation

Request from @haggadahhandittothem! Apologies for the delay. In this song, JóiPé and Króli deal with a bad relationship that has ended, featuring a random audio sample from a Fóstbræður sketch.

Icelandic transcript

Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá einn (á einn) Tómur magi, fullur haus, lítið breyst (lítið breyst) Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá einn (ennþá einn) Hlutir áttu að snúast en þeir snérust varla neitt (varla neitt)

Eitt vatnsglas Tveir mínus ei-n-n-nn Lyktin úr gullkassanum, hún eltir mig nú heim Eitt annað, mér þykir það leitt en göngutúr úr kastalanum heldur núna heim

Festu(?) mig upp Teldu upp á tíu Kastaðu í mig múrstein Skerðu úr mér nýrun Ertu að fara upp? Ertu einn í rauða bílnum? Þú veist hvar ég á heima Komdu að kyssa á mér eyrun Er einhver stakur? (?) Vill einhver vera tveir og tveir? (?) Kasta kannski á milli? Eða horfa kannski á mynd? Feitar varir, pirringur og dautt skin Hata sjálfan mig alltaf eftir klukkan fimm

Eins og hvolpur í kringum þig Gerði allt fyrir þig Nú er ég geltari Nenni engu kjaftæði Orðinn mun sterkari Allt fyrir aftan mig Hættur að hugsa um þig

Farþegi minn gaf mér bók sem ég les fyrir svefninn (?) Hélst utan um hana og slepptir ekki Söng aldrei nóg um hvað við vorum einstök blekking Síðan fékk ég nóg - sprenging

Farþegi minn gaf mér bók sem ég les fyrir svefninn (?) Hélst utan um hana og slepptir ekki Söng aldrei nóg, um hvað við vorum einstök blekking Síðan fékk ég nóg - sprenging

Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá einn (á einn) Tómur magi, fullur haus, lítið breyst Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá einn (ennþá einn) Hlutir áttu að snúast en þeir snérust varla (neitt)

Eitt vatnsglas Tveir mínus einn Lyktin úr gullkassanum, hún eltir mig nú heim Eitt annað, mér þykir það leitt að göngutúr úr kastalanum heldur núna heim

(Ókei)

Milljón ljótar hugsanir Engin af þeim virðist vera um þig (vera um þig) Aðeins færri góðar hugsanir Hver ein og einasta virðist vera beint til þín Komdu að tefla, ég skal kenna þér mannganginn Nei, ég meina, viltu halda vinasambandi Engan að sakast, það er ég sem held um stýrið En ég hata allar beygjur sem ég tek í þessu lífi

(Milljón ljótar hugsanir)

Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá ein-n-n-nn Tómur magi, fullur haus, lítið breyst Tveir koddar en ég er ennþá einn Hlutir áttu að snúast en þeir snérust varla neitt

Eitt vatnsglas Tveir mínus einn Lyktin úr gullkassanum, hún eltir mig nú heim Eitt annað, mér þykir það leitt að göngutúr úr kastalanum heldur núna heim

(SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Hjálp, hjálp! Hjálp!) (JÓN GNARR: Hvað er að?) (SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Eiríkur?) (JÓN GNARR: Þú kallaðir á hjálp?) (SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Já, öh… sængin réðst á mig, sko.) (JÓN GNARR: Ég trúi þessu ekki! Þú ætlar ekki að hætta! Ef þessu heldur áfram þá endar þú í ruslagámi!)

Transcription notes

Although I started transcribing this myself, I then discovered there are lyrics on Genius for this song, which Króli's verified artist account has contributed to (though I can't see which parts he contributed), and I cross-referenced with that. Unfortunately, it's JóiPé's parts that are really difficult here, and I can't be sure if Króli would have corrected his parts too or what. I can just about accept most of the Genius lyrics as correct, but even on repeated listens I really, really can't hear "Ertu nýkomin með bók til að lesa fyrir svefninn" as that; I hear something closer to "Farþegi minn gaf mér bók sem ég les fyrir svefninn", though it's still very slurred and unclear, and because that's my own best guess I kept it as that. The Genius lyrics also say "Frystu mig upp", but that doesn't really make any sense and I think it's "Festu mig upp". By all means tell me if JóiPé personally confirms the Genius lyrics for these lines, though.

The other lines I'm extremely not sure about are "Er einhver stakur/Vill einhver vera tveir og tveir", which definitely ends with "tveir og tveir" and I don't have a better guess for it but if the lyric isn't official from JóiPé or Króli I can definitely not vouch that that's it; I hear some garble that doesn't really sound like that but doesn't sound too unlike that either.

I distinctly hear "en göngutúr úr kastalanum" the first time, whereas the Genius lyrics have að there. The second and third time sound like að, though. I'm going to stick with the first one being en at least in the audio.

The dialogue at the end is sampled from a sketch from beloved Icelandic sketch comedy show Fóstbræður. More on the sketch in the translation notes.

English translation

Two pillows, but I'm still alone (alone) Empty stomach, head full, little changed (little changed) Two pillows, but I'm still alone (still alone) Things were supposed to get moving but they barely moved (barely moved)

One glass of water Two minus one-n-n-n The smell of the golden box follows me home One more thing, I'm sorry but a walk from the castle is now headed home

Hang(?) me up Count to ten Throw a brick at me Cut out my kidneys Are you going upstairs? Are you alone in the red car? You know where I live Come kiss my ears Is anyone left over? (?) Anyone want to be two and two? (?) Throw a ball between us? Or maybe watch a movie? Fat lips, irritation and dead skin I always hate myself after five o'clock

Like a puppy around you Did anything for you Now I'm a barker No time for bullshit Gotten much stronger Everything behind me Stopped thinking about you

My passenger gave me a book that I read before bed(?) You held it and wouldn't let go Never sang enough about what a unique illusion we were Then I had enough - explosion

My passenger gave me a book that I read before bed(?) You held it and wouldn't let go Never sang enough about what a unique illusion we were Then I had enough - explosion

Two pillows, but I'm still alone (alone) Empty stomach, head full, little changed Two pillows, but I'm still alone (still alone) Things were supposed to get moving but they barely (moved)

One glass of water Two minus one The smell of the golden box follows me home One more thing, I'm sorry that a walk from the castle is now headed home

(Okay)

A million ugly thoughts None of them seem to be about you (be about you) Somewhat fewer good thoughts Each and every one seems to be directed at you Come play chess, I'll teach you how the pieces move No, I mean, do you want to maintain a friendship No one's to blame, it's me that holds the wheel but I hate every turn that I take in this life

(A million ugly thoughts)

Two pillows, but I'm still alone-n-n-n Empty stomach, head full, little changed Two pillows, but I'm still alone Things were supposed to get moving but they barely moved

One glass of water Two minus one The smell of the golden box follows me home One more thing, I'm sorry that a walk from the castle is now headed home

(SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Help, help! Help!) (JÓN GNARR: What's wrong?) (SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Eiríkur?) (JÓN GNARR: You called for help?) (SIGURJÓN KJARTANSSON: Yeah, uh… my comforter attacked me.) (JÓN GNARR: I can't believe this! You just won't stop! If you keep this up you will end up in a dumpster!)

Translation notes

I have absolutely no idea what the thing with the golden box is about, or a walk from the castle now being headed home.

JóiPé's verse asks, among other things, "Are you alone in the red car?"; the person he's talking to at least there is male, since it's einn rather than ein.

If it is "Ertu nýkomin með bók til að lesa fyrir svefninn", then that line translates to "Did you just bring a book to read before bed?" Neither seems super sensible followed with "You held it and wouldn't let go."

Króli wants to teach "you" mannganginn, or literally "the man-walk" - that's what the rules of how the pieces move in chess are called in Icelandic. He also uses the verb tefla which means to play chess, whereas I don't think English has a single verb for that.

The Fóstbræður sketch at the end features a man (played by Sigurjón Kjartansson) who brings his comforter to work and asks not to be disturbed as he takes it into an office. He tells it to be good and then stages a fight with it, in which he wrestles it to the floor only to be overwhelmed and start to call for help. A second man (Jón Gnarr) comes in because he called; Sigurjón's character sheepishly says the comforter attacked him, and without missing a beat Jón Gnarr's character grabs the comforter and pushes it against the wall, scolding it like a repeat troublemaker. So while just hearing the audio or reading the transcript you might assume he's yelling at Sigurjón's character, he's actually yelling at the comforter, which gives a whole new meaning to the bit about ending up in a dumpster. No, I have no idea how this sketch relates to this song or why they chose to sample it at the end.