My fjord was broken from another fjord
In the rain that smoothes all curves
And islands collide with each other.
Here buses move straight forward
Cutting the rubberized night with their blue headlights
But up there you can get seasick only thinking
Of so much dark.
My fjord was broken from another fjord
He is still young and when it snows
He’s hiding like birds in the foliage,
But still I began to grieve the death
Of the first fisherman who will fall
Into its depts.