The star of love over Steeple Rock is cloaked in clouds of night. It laughed, once, in heaven for the lad who grieves deep in the dark valley. I know where all hope-- and my whole world-- flames with the fire of God. I throw off the chains of thought, I fling myself into your soul. I sink myself, see into your being, live your very life; each gracious moment God allots you flares in my flaming heart. Alone together we gathered flowers high on the heath at dawn. I wove you wreaths, reverently laying loving gifts in your lap. You heaped my forehead with fragrant rings of bright blue flowers, one, then another; you nodded and smiled and swiftly snatched them away. We laughed in the highlands while heaven grew clear, bright at the mountain brim. Not a single joy seemed to exist apart from living our life. The wise flower elves wept in the hollows, they knew we would need to part. We thought it was drops of dew and kissed cold tears from the crossgrass. I held you on horseback in the hurtling stream and felt with fond assurance I could lift and carry so light a flower over all the leagues of life. Beside the bank of Boar River I carefully combed your hair; eye stars flash, flower lips smile, cheeks turn ruby red. He is far from your fair friendship, the lad deep in the dark valley. The star of love over Steeple Rock is burning back of clouds. The heavens part the high planets, blade parts back and edge; not even eter- nity can part souls that are sealed in love.
Copyright © 2002 by Dick Ringler. From Bard of Iceland: Jónas Hallgrímsson, Poet and Scientist. Reprinted by permission of the University of Wisconsin Press. All rights reserved.