Ásmegin Arv 1. Fandens Mælkebøtte I Tors Lysskær grønnes Kaos ved Myriadens Stiernehær I Menneskens Huus, slaaes nu Rod, som en Gave fra Promethevs; Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over mig mod Plage og Sygdom Spir og gro, af Lysets Ve, ligesom Fanden selv Op med Helvedsmagt, Skærsild gul, Op!, op!, i al din Pragt; blot slig Skønhed og blot hin alene kan stadig vares ved Vi priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over os mod Hunger og Nød Spir og gro, af Lysets Føde, ligesom Fanden selv For trædet Skanken og forsmædelig Fod staaer du lige ranken Først skærsildgul, saa kiøldenshvid, ligesaa i Iordens Bul Under hvide Vinger bæres, i enske Evighedens Traa, gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae Selv mod Ædder og Hakke og mod Tidseliern vil du ei sakke, men du, til evig Tid, skal staae som Vink til Menneskens lid Mod takked Rand, mod Løvens Tand, skal Sinder knuges; af Skærsilds Blom drives Lutring, drives Liv, saa Freden holdes tom Under hvide Vinger bæres, i enske Evighedens Traa, gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae I Kosmos, en Streg, Ordenen bugnes deraf --et Kaoskræfters Pek: i Vansindets Have forvolder Udkrudtet Tugten sig at tave Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over mig mod Plage og Sygdom Spir og gro, af Lysets Ve, ligesom Fanden selv [English translation:] The Dandelion1 In Thor's glare2 Chaos sprouts By the myriad's star-army In human's house It takes roots Like a gift from Prometheus I praise you, dandelion Pour over me Against torment and sickness Grow and thrive From the light's woe Like the devil itself Up with the infernal power, Purgatory's gold, Up! up! in all your splendour Only such beauty And only that alone Can last forever We praise you, dandelion Pour over us Against hunger and need Grow and thrive From the light's nourishment Like the devil itself Because of the treading shank And the ignominious foot You nevertheless stay erected First purgatory's gold So cold and white In the earth's bole Under white wings you're carried In the wished eternity's desire Through the stalk the milk is fermented For thousand little devil-spawn Against poison and pickax And against thistle You will not abate But you forever Shall stand as a sign For the human's suffering Against jagged edge Against the leaf's prong Mind will be wrung By purgatory's bloom Purification will be driven, life will be driven So peace will be kept empty Under white wings you're carried In the wished eternity's desire Through the stalk the milk is fermented For thousand little devil-spawn In cosmos, a stroke Hence order bulged A joke of the Chaos forces In the ocean of madness The weed causes damage To tear up the chastisement I praise you, dandelion Pour over me Against torment and sickness Grow and thrive From the light's woe Like the devil itself 2. Hiertebrand Jeg vil rive hende i Filler om hun ei giver ham til mig klore hendes Øine saa han igen kun vil se mig; hendes Blod skal koges tørt i en Gryde paa hedensk Ild Intet af hendes skiøre Krop vil mere føle dig Jeg hader hin vakre Siæl hun haver Intet Had i sig Om hun atter vil hiemsøge mig intet Frygt jeg haver Husbondens Ælsk bliver til Had fra mig jo flere du vinder, jo mere hader jeg dig Skiødesløs og yndig ingen Fregne paa din Kind Paa dine natlige Stier skal du snart tørre ind Alle Mænd din Barm vil have De ere troldbundne af dig Dit lyse Haar bølger sig i Vinden naar du danser rundt i Hei I mit Hierte brinder du findes ei Had i dig Dit rene Blik vil svinde hen -din Siæl dør i Nat Dit Blod rinder paa min Kind Dine Læmmer rives af Dat Haar skal nappes eet for eet I denne Nat ditt haan skal ende Jeg ofrer nu dit Liv for alle sultne Skiøgers Lyster Ingen vil ei mere føles numne af dit pathetiske uskyldige Smil Du skal brinde Du skal visne hen Din Krop skal raadne bort til ingen mindes dig Jeg kutter op dit Bryst grafser ud af din skiønne Levning Hiertet banker, raskt som Hiort til det knuses mellem Steen; dine Indvolde bliver spredt paa Fieldet -sultne Dyr vil komme hist De vil renske dit Væsen bort, og fierne dig fra mit Aasyns vrede I sorte Nætter saa haaber jeg du hiemsøger mig, da skal jeg vise dig hvad du giorde mod mig Alle Mænd din Barm vil have De ere troldbundne af dig Dit lyse Haar bølger sig i Vinden naar du danser rundt i Hei Jeg haver et Snev af dig i mig, men du fortrænger det Ingen ser mig i Skyggen bag dig Din Lykke spiser mig Jeg vil ei længre falmes ved siden af dig Sol skal skinne igen Sit rene Blik vil svinde hen -din siæl dør i Nat [English translation:] Heart Burning3 I will tear her apart If she won't give him4 to me Claw her eyes So he won't be able to see me anymore Her blood shall be boiled dry In a pot on a pagan fire Nothing of her brittle body Will feel you anymore I hate the beautiful soul she has No hate in it If she wants to haunt me again I will not have fear The husband's love turns into hate for me Indeed the more you gain the more I hate you Negligent and lovely no winkle on your cheek On your nocturnal paths you shall soon parch Every man wants to have your bosom They are spellbound by you Your fair hair wave in the wind When you dance around on the moor In my heart you burn There is no hate in you Your pure gaze will vanish Your soul shall die tonight Your blood runs on my cheek You limbs are torn Your hair shall be snatched one by one Tonight your mockery shall end I sacrifice your life For all the hungry harlots' desires Nobody shall feel anymore numb By your pathetic innocent smile You shall burn You shall vanish Your body will rot away Until nobody will remind you I slash your breast Paw at your fair remains Heart beats, fast like a deer Until it is broken between the stones Your bowels are spread on the mountain Hungry animals will come here They shall weed away your being And remove from the wrath of my face In black nights I hope You haunt me So I shall show you what You've done to me Every man wants to have your bosom They are spellbound by you Your fair hair wave in the wind When you dance around on the moor I have a tinge of you in me But you suppress it Nobody sees me in the shadow behind you Your happiness feeds me I won't fumble at your side anymore Sun will shine again You pure gaze will vanish Your soul dies tonight 3. Generalen Og Troldharen Til Høidemarkerne lagde han sin Visitt af, en Officer, pensionered og høit decorered, hvis Jagtmod blev gået over af Tvivl saadan i Møde med baade Meute og Veidemand! Hvo er De der tror De kan fælde Haren i snehvid Ham? --Vrøvl! Med Kløgt og Tel skal den forgaae og mine Kugler bide paa Generalen olmed sig og fnøs af hine tykpandedes phantastiske Fortællinger Guds Død og Fandensdom! om en Pjalt lusker til sig Mælk og Vællinger --iscenesadt af Kællinger!? Med Siælen sadt til Diævelen af i Bytte mod hin dyreste Skat, kan Mokken, før i Skærsilds Hav, raade frit med Sortekunsts Legat Før Hanen gol, med Villen fast, der blegned baade Fugl og Gast, Og Rigtignok!, om lidt han saae Efterladenskaber saa bittesmaae Paa Gribbenillens Kælebuk bider ikke eet eneste Kuk! Thi slig en Bragd forsømmes ei men monne føres dog blot ud af mig! Jeg haver faaet nok af Flitterstad og Tant; hører I? Hystaden er lutter mannegal og sprød I Morgen, før Solen nedrunden ere, skal I faae se den død! han sprang tilskovs med Morgenen ludende over sin Krag-Jørgensen --PANG! smald det fra Skrænten, efterfulgt af høilydt Banden Nu greb Hvidlæst til sit Gevær, og svandt bort i Blaaning skvær --PANG! Riffelen atter sang accompagnered af Bersekergang Hans Liv passered saa Revue her given Floskelheltens Ry! Af sig selv forjaged og forkaved, og føred ind i Afmagtens Bedrøvelse Ak, hvilket Huskomhei han nu havde laved Nej, han monne hvæsse Syn og Hørelse til sit Livs Prøvelse - at genreise Fordums Førelse, efter Fornemheds Frarøvelse Og rigtignok! han fandt flux Spor og grinte vel af sin Gave stor Han kasted indpaa mere Skraa, thi slig en Stund skulde skønnes paa, og tritted sporenstregs og kvikt og sveded ud baade Tryk og Gigt Gennem Morgenrødens Stille skar en durkdreven Statur og kyste alskens Liv herop, der ei var kendt med slig Natur I hans Øine skimtes nu Diævelen, om du tør at skæve ind i dem! thi han mærked det, i Marg og Ben, Ramlerens Nærvedsværen: O Øienpryd! Hist, i Fleinkrullslyng, Hvidpuds praled og sig vigted med lidet vidste den derom, at den nu laae i Riffelsigtet Igen, han fandt sig selv høiraged og begaved, der føltes skønt her med Overvægtens Beruselse, thi! han fandt Haren i Lyngen, der ei længer kaved Hist, den laae til Vy og Anskuelse, Skamfuldhed og Ruelse omkalfatred til Lunelse over Trofæets Hædersbebudelse Men brat byksed Haren op som Jægersiæl ud af Krop! Generalen fik saa her sin største Knæk, thi Haren sprang nu med hans Finger væk! Med Ryg og Lænder, krum og lud i sagte Trin, og Knoen gemt, svøbt i blodig Klæde ind; Jagtmod ere gået over af Tvivl saadan i møde med baade Meute og Veidemand Hvad haver hændt med Eders Haand, der ere bleg som Eders Aand? Si', hvad var vor Gæt? De bar tomhænded Hiem og tilbage ligger nu Hoveren --Pølsesnak! I Barten han prusted ein Zapfenstreich og med Næve hytted, han hvæsed og spytted: Revanche: Mit Løsen! I ved Løvfald ser en nyboren Christianienser! [English translation:] The General And The Troll-Hare5 To the highlands paid a visit An officer, retired and highly decorated Whose hunting courage was often doubted In meeting with both pack of hounds and hunters "Who are you You believe you can Slay the hare with the snow-white shape On the pet belly Of the shrew Doesn't have effect a fuck!" "Nonsense! With shrewdness and courage It shall die And my bullets will have effect For such a bang Don't miss But it has to be shot just by me!" The general got angry and snorted for the fabulous stories of these retarded "Goddamn it! What if it's a coward to slink milk and gruel Directed by hags? With soul offered to the devil In exchange with this most precious treasure The hag can, before the purgatory's sea Rule freed with black art's endowment" "I had enough of tinsel and fables, do you hear me? The hysterical animal is nothing but a loony and mad Today before sun is set, you will see it dead" Before the cock crows With firm will There got pale both bird and troll-bird He ran to the wood The morning Stooping over his Krag-Jørgensen And indeed! Somewhat he saw Excrements so tiny and small And indeed! He found straight away spoors And grinned for this big present He cast in his mouth more chewing tobacco, for such a moment should be evaluated And stepped immediately and quick and sweated both for gasp and rheumatism Through the dawn's silence loomed a crafty stature Killing all kinds of living creatures up there that were known with such nature In his eyes gleams the devil, if you dare to leer at them For he felt in marrow and bone, the hare's presence Oh eye-adornment! Here in the heather of the barren grove, the white-painted boasted and showed off But little it knew that there it laid in the rifle aim Bang! It banged from the hillside Followed by a high-resounding curse Now the white-paw fell back on its guns and vanished away in the fading blue clouds Bang! The rifle sang again Accompanied by going-berserk His life passed in review Giving the boast of platitude Worried about himself and breathless And led inside impotence's sorrow Alas what uproar he made No, he had to sharpen sight and hearing For his life's ordeal To restore the conduct of old days After being robbed of his distinction But suddenly the hare leaped up Like hunter-soul out of his body! The general got his biggest crack For the hare now sprang with his finger away! With back and lumbar, crooked and stooping with soft step And knuckles gone, swathed in bloody clothes Hunting courage has dispelled the doubt such In meeting with both pack of hounds and hunters "What happened To your hand Is it sallow like your spirit? Say what looked like our lady? You come back home empty-handed And leave behind the triumph" “Crap talk!” In moustache he snorted “A (military) tattoo” And with clenched fist, he hissed and spat “Revenge! My battle cry By leaf fall you'll see A new-born Kristiania citizen!” 4. Arv Faderen sadt med sin Kniv og skar paa sit Indtun og søgte Svar han ere nu trætted og betænkt Han saae sin Søn nu vokse til og undred om ham føre vil Levnet ham ere ofred og skænkt Sønnen saa et Brev bekommet; Sønnen svor sin Siæl Faderen med Sotte, forkommet, laae nu, uden Vilje, uden Lyst Uden Tøven hasted Hiem naadde ei rettidigt frem, Faderen havde resigneret sin Dyst Dine Høster faaer du af Marken du saaer saa hold sirlig din Hæst og din Harv, Før dit sidste Traa, maae du din Søn formaae saa han bliver ved her i sin Arv Se til de nære, og hold dine kære og vid at de vil med dig henstaae Lær din Søn alt derom Ætt og Gehalt og han høste vil saa din Stoltheds Haa Faderen tog sit farvel higheil og sæl udvortes Sønnen drog af Gaarde og Skammen slog en Aare indvortes derpaa, sin Odel at beskikke Han svor sit Eftermæle derpaa, hans Minde at beskikke Voldt efter forgangen Sed jeg muldlægger dig paa dit Arnested saa du kan følge med at vor Families Hævd varer ved I Utid, i Vansken vender jeg mig til din Houg hen saa du kan følge med At vor Families Hævd varer ved Naar min Tid kommen ere, skal jeg da selv lægges her, og min Sønnesøn, der vil føre vor staute Arv skvær [English translation:] Heritage The father sat with his knife and carved In his inner courtyard and sought answers He is now arguing and thoughtful He saw his son grown up And wondered if he would carry on The life he has been offered and granted The son saw a letter come: The son cursed his soul The father with sickness, devastated Lays now, without will, without desire Without hesitating hurried home Did not arrived right on time The father had resigned to his battle "Following the ancient custom I will bury you in your birthplace So that you can see That our family's tradition lasts by In bad times, in troubles I will turn to your burial mound So that you can see That our family's tradition lasts by When my time has come I too shall be laid here And my son's son Will carry our proud heritage honestly" "Your harvest you get from the ground you sow So keep your horse and your harrow adorned In your last wish, you must urge your son So that he remains by his heritage See the close ones, and hold your loved ones And they will stand by you Teach your son everything about family and value And he will harvest your pride's hay" The father took his farewell Tranquil and happy Outwards The son left the farm And the shame struck a vein On the inside Afterwards, his inherited land He got in order He swore his obituary Afterwards, his memory He got in order 5. Yndifall Með hundraði seggum salt bar inn gran-rauði striðlyndir ok illvilja-fullir Þegar sem í augljósi kom land Vörn á fjöru stóð í sjáldi hvílaði Foldin en mark hersis varð lyptat Þegar sem í augljósi kom hjölt Þaðan kertisveinn skrækti gekk gramr sá út í leiki Freys ok dróttir gengu saman með honum Reiðyrði í hávaða váru heyrt en lólyndr hersis gekk til níðings ok Hildr gekk saman með honum Hildr ok Skögul bíðu ór stað Á meðal vikvera hundraða birtast fránn inn tiginborni lang-rækir ok baráttu-fullir i Þvisa él réð Þá yndifall Margr maðr hraustaligr fell dreyra-fæð rann Foldin en størri tapan skulu verða í Þvísa él réð Þá yndifall Höggvandi lysti af honum höfuðit ímnir hans vá ok sárs-auki gein siðan hné gramr aptr ok var Þá dauðr Hirð fölnaði ok starði niðr glýstamir ok værugjarnir andast nú skulu Þeir til viss hvergi Hildr ok Skögul bíðu ór stað [English translation:] Bereavement With hundreds of men The red-beard was carrying salt Battle-minded and full of ill-will When soon appeared the land A defence stood on the waterline Seldom the County rested So the mark of the hersir6 was hoisted When soon appeared the land Then a young orderly shrieked The warrior went in Freyr's game7 And all the men went together him Angry words could be hear loudly But a coward hersir went towards infamy And Hildr went together him8 Hildr and Skögul waited in the same place9 In the bay they were hundreds The noble-born gleamed bright With a long memory and skilled in battle Then the storm10 decreed the bereavement Many a valorous man fell Blood-stained run the County But loss would be become greater Then the storm decreed the bereavement They wanted to hit him on the head The giants revealed him misfortune and sorrow11 After the warrior fell backwards and then died The hird12 turned pale and stood watching Joyless and wishing for warm and rest they passed away Now for sure they will be no more Hildr and Skögul waited in the same place 6. Gengangeren Riv mig sund Læm for Læm Bistert og vondt mit Helved-Rig Hør, jeg bier, giv mig Fred ifra Mønsteret du ei vil være ved Skral og tom jeg falder i Knæe Hør, jeg bier, giv mig Fred Overvældende, et Mulm søger sin Føde i Sygdom og Forkommenhed mister jeg min Tro, Naar du høster ind din Grøde vænder jeg Øine væk fra en endelig Ro Bistert og vondt mit Helved-Rig Jeg kæmper Sygdommens faafængte Krig Nød voldes igen og igen Om jeg blot kunde svinde hen Skral og tom Jeg falder i Knæe Hør! Jeg bier giv mig Fred fra Dødens Spot fra mit Lægeme saa tungt, saa tungt Giv mig Fred! [English translation:] The Apparition Tear me apart Limb for limb Grim and evil My infernal kingdom Hear I await, give me peace Into the cathedral you will not be admitted Weak and empty I fall on my knees Hear I await, give me peace Overwhelming, a darkness seeks its nourishment In sickness and weariness I lose my faith When you reap your crop I'll turn my eyes away from a final rest Grim and evil my infernal kingdom I fight the worthless battle of sickness Need is generated Again and again If only I could disappear Weak and empty I fall on my knees Hear! I await Give me peace From death's mock From my body So heavy, so heavy Give me peace 7. Prunkende, Stolt I Jokumsol I Stille færdes jeg hen fra Alfarvei opp mod Jokumsol Af Byrden vældes jeg Tankerne knuger mig Der synes langt til Jokumsol Alt mit Vonde glemmer jeg bi Lysskapet fremfor mig, der blusser i Jokumsol Elvehesten fore mig i Prunken hin viser sig saa stolt i Jokumsol Hvis Varskrig lokker mig og fører mig indtil sig given hen i Jokumsol Levnet blaaner bagom mig ei længer tynges jeg saa skønt i Jokumsol Dansense ledes jeg idet Nøkken toner Vei given efter i Jokumsol I Tiernet svinder jeg mod Mulmet under mig saa koldt i Jokumsol [English translation:] Pompously, Proudly In The Sun Of Jokum In silence I journey Away from the public road Up towards the sun of Jokum By the burden I am ruled Thoughts oppress me It seems to me so far to the sun of Jokum All my sorrow I forget By the daylight before me It flares in the sun of Jokum The elf horse before me In pomp it shows itself So proudly in the sun of Jokum If a wailing cry13 allures me And leads me up to it I will abandon myself in the sun of Jokum Life fades to blue behind me And no longer I'm oppressed So fair in the sun of Jokum Dancing I'm driven On the path of the Nøkk song14 Yielding myself in the sun of Jokum In the tarn I disappear In darkness beneath me So cold in the sun of Jokum 8. En Myrmylne En Efteraarsdag saa kold, saa skønn strøg jeg af Sted Med gyldne røde prangende føre mig blev jeg liden igen En sval Bris let mod mit Kind som en Hiertenskærs Strygen Sitrende jeg laver i duggfrisk Lyng mit Hierte slaae sin Rod Myrerne stuves for sit røde Guld, hvis Blussen tilstases mit Hy og Huld Mit Spand nu fyldes -just som mig Mit Spand hartad læns stadig trinte jeg i Skoven længer ind mod gemte Lænder smykked i Guld Hist fore mig i Skoddefavn Bjørken røber sin Lønegang mod Myrerne i fuld Troldpuds mit Føtt slaaer sin Rod Op ifra Søkket op ifra Skoddehav, en duvende Mylne hos Tørvfolket stod Dødmand byder sin Dødkone op Forføred af Løden om Myrens smukke Guld Forsømmed jeg Døden kring Multens vonde Kuld Multens Greb nu omkring mig slog og lokker mig længer ud paa Lunsemyr --mens Dødens Vals tiltog Tørvens Greb haardt omkring min Fod og trækker mig ned mod min vaate Grav Min Krop saa tung, saa hvilkekær fredsælt min Vilje her bleges af Dødmand om sin Dødkone Hænderne hævet over Hoved En Aattetur i evig Rundgang -slig gaaer Dødens Vals Høire Haand tvunded i hendes Venstre Haand tvunden i hans Til Toner af Raaten gik Mylnen med en Oddes Savn Hvis Multerne saa til næste Høst min Danseuse vilde skænke mig [English translation:] A Bog Mylne15 An autumn day So cold, so beautiful I dashed off With golden red16 Shining before me I'm enthusiast again A cool breeze Played against my cheek Like a heart-rending caress Trembling I lay down In the dew-fresh heather My heart strikes roots My bucket almost empty Constantly I have stepped Farther in the wood So fast my foot Towards hidden lands Adorned with gold Here before me In the fog's embrace The birch reveals its secret passage Towards the bogs In full troll caster My feet strike roots Bogs are crammed With their red gold17 Whose blaze adorns My complexion and body My bucket now is filled Just as me Seduced by the sound Of the bog's lovely gold I neglected the Death Around the cloudberry's evil cold Up from the hollow Up from the fog-sea A swaying mylne Stood by the peat-people18 The dead men summons His dead wife The cloudberry's grasp wrap me around And allures me further on the treacherous bog While the Death's waltz enhances Peat's grasp hardly around my foot And pulls my down towards my wet grave My body so heavy, so motionless Peace-loving my will gets pale Dead men by His dead women Hands lifted Over the head A eight figure In eternal turn Such goes the Death's waltz Right hand Entwined in hers Left hand Wound in his To the tunes Of decay went The mylne with a nostalgia for the odd one Whose cloudberries Saw the next autumn That my dancer will grant me Erik Fossan Rasmussen ‒ Vocals, Drums Raymond Håkenrud ‒ Guitars, Bass, Vocals, Piano Marius Glenn Olaussen ‒ Guitar, Bass, Mandolin, Accordion, Piano, Mellotron Lars Fredrik Frøislie ‒ Hammond Organ, Piano, Mellotron, Mini-Moog 1. A flower used in medicine against many illness, in Norwegian the name translates literally as "the devil's milk pail" 2. Kenning for lightning. 3. Inspired to the medieval Scandinavian ballad "The Two Sisters" about two sisters, one pure and lovely, the other wicked and hateful. The latter one ends up killing her sister to take her lover’s hand from her and to herself. 4. her boyfriend. 5. Inspired to a true story where there was some retired lieutenant, not a general like here, travelling from Christiania (the Capitol of Norway from 1877 to 1925) to the countryside of Ringerike (but in the lyric it's the author's homelands Hadeland, not far away from Ringerike) to hunt down a troll-hare, which has been terrorizing the locals for awhile. 6. Local ruler. 7. Kenning for battle. 8. Hildr is a valkyrie. To go with a valkyrie means to go in battle. 9. Hildr and Skögul are two valkyries, they wait for battle to begin so to take with them the braver warrior to Valhalla 10. Metaphor for battle 11. Usually Giants are keeper of great wisdom, they can reveal if you'll be lucky or not in battle. 12. King's own armed following. 13. In Scandinavia folklore “Varskrig” is the scream that Nøkk gives to allure people 14. Water spirit that can shift shape into a white or grey horse just to be mounted and lead the rider into a lake or river. 15. “Mylne” is a waltz. It tells a story about a man going to the woods picking cloudberries, but ending up dead in the marshlands. Others just like him, also mesmerized by the cloudberries, ended up in these marshlands. On his slow, yet certain way downwards into the sump, their ghostly figures appear, performing this waltz, which is an octagonal traditional waltz. They teach him the dance and let him join in. 16. Sunset. 17. The cloudberry. 18. The dead of the marshland.