Den Bergtekne

Eg e ikkje bergteken, Slik ho Margit Hjukse frå Sauherad var [repeat] Ho lengtar ut. Eg lengtar inn. Ho lengtar ut. Eg lengtar inn. Det e ho som ber sorgji så tronge For meg fell nettane korte og dagane longe Aleine eg aldri til kanten tør gå Ho tok eismal vegjen til bergjet der låg Hjarta ho drakk tomt Eg og du kjenner ho vel? Lat oss tøma glaset på det 'Drik utor di, allerkjærasten min!'Drik utor di, allerkjærasten min! For mykje for meg, for lite for deg For lite, for mykje, og stundom akkurat nok Ho kvilar hos kvitskjeggen i bergjet det blå Med du og eg veggen til endes må trå [English translation:] The Mountain Prisoner I am not a prisoner of the mountain Such was Margit Hjukse from Sauherad3 She yearns the outside, I yearn the inside She yearns the outside, I yearn the inside It's she who carries the sorrow so strong To me nights were short and days long Alone I dare never to go to the fringe She took alone the way that led to the mountain The heart she drank empty You and I know her well? Let's empty the glass on that "Drink deeply, my dearest!" "Drink deeply, my dearest!" Too much for me, too little for you Too little, too much, and sometimes precisely enough She rests by the white-beard in the blue mountain With you and me the way to the end must tread