Fugloy – Josef Zachariassen

H O W L O N G

Orð & lag: Josef Zachariassen

Golden hair, red cheeks and bright shiny eyes
The rondo of life, playing like an endless surprise
How long do you think it’s going to last?
Until his innocence becomes the distant past?
The charming serpent whispers a sobering truth.
The cost of wisdom – a glimpse of humanity’s spite. What a bitter fruit.
How long do you think it’s going to last?
Until his innocence becomes the distant past?
Father, forgive us, for we know not what we do.
We take for granted, a story that’s yet to be told –
full of light and shadow. Please give us strength to be bold.
How long do you think it’s going to last?
Until his innocence becomes the distant past?

Æ V I G A H V Í L A N

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

Kom til oyggjar
At leita í mær sjálvum.
At finna fjaldar tónar.
At vitja mína ætt.
Kløkkur bleiv eg,
Tey tosa um deyðan
Sum eg tosi um veðrið
Í finstovu hanga myndir
Av ætt og kenningum.
Vit hóma blítt í kærleiksins eygu.
So minnast vit tey deyðu.
Hvíl í frið.
Gakk tryggur
Inn í ta ævigu hvílu.
Kirkja, skríggj, og grátur.
Eg ræðist deyðanum. Men
Tíðin vit eiga og deila við øðrum,
Ein dýrgripur frá var Harra
Hvíl í frið
Gakk tryggur
:Inn í ta ævigu hvílu:

M E G A – S T O R E

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

9 years old, inside a mega-store
With shelves and fridges stacked to the skyline.
I lived here, inside the household aisle.
On the sixth shelf with my best friends.
One day, I climbed a rack.
Saw my teacher from behind a six-pack.
In bed with a microwave.
Careful now – microwaves gossip.
I better hide out in my Kit-Kat-castle.
Too late, the teacher had caught me with his eyes.
Paper in his hands – a death sentence.
I ran, chased by the microwave.
She slipped on my marble trap. While
I slid through the closing gate.
Pitchforks and torches filled the horizon.
Greasy haired teacher was leading the raid.
Voices getting clearer now, “Kill him!”
Hoisted and thrown off the cliff.
Woke up – grown man in his childhood room.
On the desk lay a broken microwave.
I need to throw it out.
I need to throw it out.
I need to throw it out.
I grabbed my microwave and threw it out.

Z A C H A R I A S

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

Áðrenn tú fór avstað,
Spurdi eg teg:
Hvat er títt loyndarmál?
“Eg blívi við at læra meir
Um treytaleysan kærleikan”.
Nógv brúkti Gudsóttan og helviti.
Men aldrin tú, nei.
Tú livdi fyri kærleikan.
Eri farin frá øllum -ismum og -dómum.
Men hoyri enn tína rødd.
Tá náttin gerst ísakøld,
Minnist eg enn,
Tær røtur, tú festi.

B L A C K C A T / W H I T E R A T

Orð: Josef Zachariassen & Gabriel Kahane
Lag: Jósef Zachariassen

Skeleton in the room
Whispers the hidden truth
All those Sunday screams
Then cowering in the pew
A joyful noise
The elders sing to God
But I’ve lost my voice
Out in the churchyard
Notice the pressure in your chest.
What shape does it manifest?
I think I see a ghost, a black cat, maybe a white rat,
Or the silence he imposed
A joyful noise
The elders sing to God
But I’ve lost my voice
Out in the churchyard
I see you, the outline of a child.
Put a smile on your face, little man
I think we’ll work it out.

Y O U S I L L Y D O G

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

Hold on. Hold on.
Hold on for dear life.
I still see you. Still feel you.
Tonight we’ll have a ball
and turn the cheek.
Lonely. Lonely.
The ball is a lonely place.
Am I dreaming again?
Or is this a disguise
protecting me from the bright darkness?
The priests are shouting loudly on the empty streets tonight.
In every little corner, I see Coca-Cola light.
I’ll tell a little story of how they did me wrong.
And then we’ll work it out, my cutie pie.
Over. It’s over.
It’s all over the place.
The fish are flying higher than usual tonight.
The rats are eating fine-dine at your table, alright.
You sit there all alone, hoping they won’t do you wrong.
I guess we’ll work it out, you silly dog.

L Y I N G C O W

Orð & lag: Josef Zachariassen

Pack your black backpack, Jack.
We’re going on a southbound train.
Gonna see the Starry Night, and
Eyeball the Lying Cow.
What wisdom will he share today?
In the corner where no one goes,
Lay a note by the one-eared man.
A piece of rusty paper, I read
As peace overtook my mind.
“I am happiest when I live a simple life
Free from the pressures of the world
In nature’s remedy”
Then it struck me,
God, where did I go wrong?
Climb above the feed
Remember who you used to be
Dear, did you forget yourself
In the ocean of endless feeds?

T U R I S T U R I N

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

Til Føroyar
Til Fugloyar
Einvegis ferð
Vetrardagur
Illa klæddur
Varð leitað á landi,
á sjógvi og á flogið.
Bert tøgn í fleiri døgn.
Brádliga hvorvin.
Aldrin funnin.
Luftin ýlir í kvøld.
Havið brølar grátandi
Í dag er liðið eitt ár.
Tankar leita til turistin,
Á oyggj ein ódnardag,
Um hann datt í eitt kolasvart hol.
Pápin kom til oyggjar.
Framvegis ódn. Hann kom at
Síggja seinastu leið
Einkasonar,
So hann kann syrgja
Luftin ýlir í kvøld.
Havið brølar grátandi
Í dag er liðið eitt ár.
Tankar leita til turistin,
Á oyggj ein ódnardag,
Um hann datt í eitt kolasvart hol.

T H E W I N D O W

Orð & lag: Jósef Zachariassen

I’m looking out my window.
Looking at creation.
My eye catches a tree.
Oh, how it just seems to be.
Not a worry in the world.
Never lies in bed upcurled.
Unlike you and me.
I’m standing on a mountain,
as green as it can be.
My eye catches a flower,
that survived nature’s power.
Durable and strong,
It’s right where it belongs.
Perhaps, like you and me.
I’m standing in the rain,
watching the field.
The sky cries out in pain,
Turning everything green.
Pain turns out alright –
Darkness into light.
Just like you and me.