Upstream they went towards the valley.
Through long abandoned levels and roads they went,
rushing, yet they wake no sleeper.
You may hear the colors rising louder,
O so quietly they go. Into the churchyard,
the airy kisses from an golden yew,
the billboards read between the lines,
my dear, indeed their signs show us love;
they care for the future of this city
whose O so in blossom this spring.
Ring! Ring the bells! Rose-pedals on thousand floors,
silver strings of all instruments agree.
With every step a heart anews.  
Viktor Kaldalóns
1987 - ...


Ljóð eftir Viktor Kaldalóns

Sær í átt að sæng.
Ástarljóð til hins visna.
Minn kæri vin... það mun versna.
Málverk stöðnunar.
St. Coll.
Windows blow in like ten thousand ice floes upon the snowy quarters.
The brighter side of the day goes down in three, two, one...
Náðarhögg.
The first lightpost on St. Coll.
My date of birth kept in memory of a bartender (pt. one).
My date of birth kept in memory of a bartender (pt. two).
It feels like dying, you know...
Útöndun.
Our graves undulate with fever.
Fáninn lágreisti.
The regent roads to nowhere; the end of the world.
Just like the corner of all nights.
Just like the corner of the day...
Tunglhaf.
Anddyrið kringum sviðið.
Lágröddun.
Væg túlkun.
The dead queen and us.
Endir á litblæ, hulinn bær.
Útrýming.
Líflaus blómstrun.
Skýrar, en þó svo daufar.
Sunnudagsgredda.
Dálæti; og ástin bíður ósigur.
Brotin umgjörð.
Svartur er sjórinn.
Horfin fjarvera.
Og allt varð grátt.
Ljóðið fannst aldrei.
The lively queen and us.
Tilvonandi Eilífðartími.
Dökk spor.
Í eyði.
The prime of the queen.
Sýningin tælandi á sviði slökknandi borgarljósa.
Regina.
Upstream they went towards the valley.
Contiguous grapevine, old and all around.
Unsuited.
Carry a no-win mist inside God´s acre.
With only a wire and death attached.
Drizzling in tween the rest.
Without a pole star and wherries to take us home.
I will leave you dumfounded just like before.
Heilög borg?
Well lit allure of anesthesia.
My naked naiad.
Pharisaic lifetime of a saint.
Einfari; loftmengun.
Brúðguminn.
Þú og ég.
Ylur.
Herskari.
Örvilnun skýjaglópana.
Sjónarhorn skuggsælla engla í sorgarklæðum.
Lof efstu svalanna.
Það er að stytta upp.
Vöggugjöf launmorðingjans.
Blessun.
Fjárhagsörðugleikar nútímablíðu.
Von er...
Vonleysi er...