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Vera Júlíusdóttir
Hallberg Hallmundsson
Ţór Stefánsson
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Vera Júlíusdóttir   Prenta 

Piano Sonata from Spring Flute

It has been a long time since you whistled a tune
ate a nice meal
reclined on the green sofa
- in the style of Mozart
read a book or a magazine
yet I do not complain much
and leave it to a piano sonata
to charge the air with expectations
concentrate the mind
An inviting glance
to love

Let us live from Field of Life

Let us make love
let us live the years of nakedness
in times of conflict
a duet
looking for life
away from the others

Askur and Embla

Touch from Spring flute

My eyes
are fingers

arranging it into a bouquet

No words
without the yarn
my poems
are spun from

without you
shapeless poetic damage
to communicate

A Cold and Aimless Flight

Let us awake anew
the tunes
we played
by the spring

let us enjoy as before
and live


Is it his nature or
his passion
to light a

put out?


Put a hand
into the mouth of the wolf
or take on
the guise of a fly
should it help me
to have


I were

the woman
who young was


Him and Her

The woman is the night, life
the sun

the man is the day, death
the shade

Dusk and Dawn
on the carousel of years

Does disintegration follow fusion
attraction separation?


What God has joined

still exists
in your starfish heart

to entwine us again
entangle us in your tightly woven net
catch the eyes so clear
in the calmest pool
pale-faced regard them
as they break
in a strong freezing current

no human being must


The raging surf
surrounds everything
fascinates me
drinks my lust and my love
I hang on desperately to the pleasures of the deep
hoping I will never be shot up
to the surface

Magic beauty and threat
resides in this golden waterfall
an irrepressible longing
pulls me down the current
to you

Don't Touch Me

Love draws
before windows

the final hour
an open side wound

no one sees
the bleeding

no one smells

cry Christ

A Lone Tree

Behind mountains and beyond seas
stands a lone tree
badly rooted and lacking care

sometimes I am that tree

no one knows
the crooked path to me but you
and when you come the tree will turn

leaf-green and fill up with juice


Happily, I write you onto the land, the light, the blueness of dusk, the deep and myself. I hold tightly onto your words and caresses and carry them with me wherever I go; they disclose the child in the poem that is brought to life inside me.

Clock Hand

Where are you big hand?

Without you I glide forward
and move myself either back or forward

the fragile glass
an imagined fortress and a black rein
pull me in two directions

without you

Love Tree

I am the peace in the forest, dressed in
evening red words. I can not make things up: my life is
running its course in the hourglass of the day. Oh, come let us make


bearing witness to

beyond the story tower

of the white scrolls
of love

Whistling in the Field

"Glorious green nature
sweeps sorrow aside
lets poems grow"


stitch a name
into ones heart?

Every prick
followed by
the warm blood
of suppressed hopes

every stitch
a fresh pain

the autumn forest

Also here life is out and about
finely wrought magnificent

the forest-ocean-symphony

yet I am alone


keep me awake

their scent when the colours of night
dry on the brushes

suddenly I see where
he emerges
with one more flower

and kisses me

A Fair Breeze

That day
cheerfulness reigns
in eyes of the sea

reality protests

but we sail
a quick breeze on a yacht
with the biggest dream
on board

The Flood

When the day rises, the women wash their dreams in
the salty sea, hang them up for display where
a red shadow falls on the brightest ones. Then
they rinse the men out, but they all come
back like the flood.


A melancholic seashell
curled around my rest
babbling until the morning
that nothing is as it once was
except for painful emotions

can not fight against
reckless memories

long to rest
inside a white seashell


Music blue pupils

their tones
a hot summer night

of the sea-of-the-thousand-strings


Freshly sown words
pick themselves up from
the soil

a light is lit

Translated by Vera Júlíusdóttir.

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