The sun is old on water
Yearling flakes keep whirling by
"Carry me awry"
Collapsing breaths discover
Turning hope, new-boarded highs
Receding howls dew the skies
Closing eyes recover
Amber light in wintry bed
"Can you pull me under the cold, charred sea?"
Whispered words of summer
Fallen ode, a bawling bless,
Serenades the water and carries me anew.
In softest air, a stutter
steers the heart away from the bane,
leaves the lasting sorrow and carries me anew.
by Ólafur Arnalds