Omkring tiggarn från Luossa [English translation]

Around the beggar from Luossa sat all people in a ring

and by the campfire they heard his song.

And of gypsies and wayfarers, and of beautiful things

of his longing sang he, all night long:

There is something beyond the mountains, past the flowers and music,

there is something behind the stars, behind my burning heart.

Hear it - something goes and whispers, try to tempt me, begs to me:

Come to us, thy this earth, it is not your kingdom to be had.

I have listened to the calm and sedate waves against the sand,

of the wildest oceans slumber have I dreamed.

And in my spirit I have rushed, for vague and distant lands

there the dearest we know, shall be forgot.

To a wild and ever longing, we were born to mothers' pale.

Of anxieties travail rose our first sigh and scream.

Out on the steppes and mountains we were thrown to tumble and play,

and we played lion, moose, peasant and god.

I sat quiet by her side, she, who's heart that was like mine,

with soft hands she caressed our nest.

I heard my heart ache and cry: what you own it isn't yours,

and I was carried away by the spirit to be laid to rest.

That you love, it is far beyond and hidden in the dusk's past.

and my righteous path was loud and wonderful.

And I was tempted in the warning to pray for the Lord:

"Take all of this Earth, I possess not what anyone has."

Follow me my brother, behind the mountains with calm, cold rivers.

there the ocean sleeps slowly, a bed surrounded by a crown of hills.

Somewhere past the skies is my home, awaits my mother,

in the middle of gold-stained fogs, in a rose-clothed dress.

May the black and salty water, cool these cheeks, now fever-red,

may us be miles away from life, before the morning rises again.

Not of this world was I, and of hard and endless hardships,

lead by my unrest, my faith and the sake of my burning love.

By a clam-infested ocean beach stands a port of roses heavy,

by the wrecks and ships, old and tired men gets their rest.

Never to hear loud songs, like a violin's echoes' sing,

under vault there eternally young children of salvation stay.