The flood is breaking, in Norway there is spring

English

The flood is breaking, in Norway there is spring

The flood breaks,
in Norway there is spring,
in the valleys the birch trees are budding.
Man from the Valley*
silent and sturdy
clears the land of the farm of his fathers.
See how the light rises in the Woodlands,
the avalanches crashes along the sides of the mountains.
The flood breaks,
in Norway there is spring,
and the men of the Valley reign.

From the mountain trickles
a brook so tenderly
amongst grass and stones.
Many small brooks merge
into a river
the most beautiful you could ever see.
Listen how the water rushes
listen how the waterfall surges
The flood breaks,
in Norway there is spring,
and the men of the Valley reign.

Small brook
can you understand
however did it gain this power/this voice.
The running stream
is a grown man.
Stop him if you can.
No man can turn the stream.
Lumber and houses are brushed aside.
The flood breaks,
in Norway there is spring,
and the men of the Valley reign.

Man of the city, stiff and tight
in the streets he walks,
believing he is our teacher.
But I am not
intimidated by you
I decide my own path.
The farmers are no longer meek,
the rights of the landowners will we use.
The right is ours
(uncertain..)
...

If we return late
We are nevertheless strong.
We will clear the farm.
The language of the farmers,
sharp as steel
will be patient no more.
We must have Norwegian language in Norway,
no more struggling with the Danish language.
The language of the farmers,
sharp as steel
will be patient no more.

Shiny as gold
and soft as wool
is the Norwegian language.
Like sunshine on mountains,
Like fields of flowers(?)
Like the birdsong in the evening
Its roots run a thousand years deep
And a thousand years more it shall stand
The flood breaks,
in Norway there is spring,
and the men of the Valley reign.

In the summer
The sun shines on the earth
Makes the red campion blossom and flourish!
From over the hills
horns cry out
And the men of the valley clash their shields.
Off with the poor man´s hood
The golden helmets gleams in the morning light
From over the hills
horns cry out
And the men of the valley clash their shields.

The work of King Harald*
you, strong farmer,
must repeat now, the second time.
Old strong rocks
with deep roots
yet hold manhood and courage.
Come all, join our cause/journey
And it will be heard all over the world
that the men of Norway
ventured on and won
their own country back.

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