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hatari-translations · 3 months

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Bashar Murad - Vestrið villt (Wild Wild West) - translation and notes

Bashar Murad's Söngvakeppnin entry, "Wild Wild West", was performed in the second semifinal last Saturday with Matthías's Icelandic lyrics. They are a translation of the official English lyrics, but there are some interesting differences that would be fun to ramble about a little, so here's a backtranslation of the Icelandic lyrics into English and some notes!

Compare to the official English lyrics here.

Official Icelandic lyrics

Er enn á ferðinni á sömu bylgjunni Veit ei hvert skal haldið í leit að hamingjunni

Er grjót sem veltur fram get aldrei staðið kyrr Þegar þú verður bitur og vilt gera betur þarf að breyta til

Hendi mér upp á veginn svo syng ég þína skál Tómar hendur, tómir vasar en í hjarta mínu brennur bál

Ótaminn villingur allt frá því ‘93 og mig skortir allt fé – ég sver það breytist nú

(Því ég) ætla að fara í vestrið villt, þar sem illt og spillt Er besta fólkið Og þó ég geri mjög gott mót Fari fót fyrir fót Er ég aldrei hólpinn

Ég ætla að fara í vestrið villt, Þar sem mild og tryllt Eru kaup og skipti Ég segi já, ekkert mál, að veði legg mína sál Svo er bara að taka sénsinn

Ég er enn á ferðinni ekki kominn langt á veg Ég glamra á gítarinn, með leðurstígvélin, og slóð í sandinn dreg Klæddur fyrir hlutverkið, vona að þið hrífist með Tók mig þrjátíu ár að átta mig á – að vera bara ég

Ætla að fara í vestrið villt, þar sem illt og spillt Er besta fólkið Og þó ég geri mjög gott mót Fari fót fyrir fót Er ég aldrei hólpinn

Ætla að fara í vestrið villt, Þar sem mild og tryllt Eru kaup og skipti Ég segi já, ekkert mál, að veði legg mína sál Svo er bara að taka sénsinn

Ég er bara að taka sénsinn

Velkomin í vestrið villt… Velkomin í vestrið villt, Velkomin í vestrið villt, Þú færð einn séns til að hamra járnið Þarna er það – tækifærið

(Því ég) Ætla að fara í vestrið villt, þar sem illt og spillt Er besta fólkið Og þó ég geri mjög gott mót Fari fót fyrir fót Er ég aldrei hólpinn

Ætla að fara í vestrið villt, Þar sem mild og tryllt Eru kaup og skipti Ég segi já, ekkert mál, að veði legg mína sál Svo er bara að taka sénsinn Ég er bara að taka sénsinn

Velkomin í vestrið villt.

English backtranslation

I'm still on the road, on the same wavelength I don't know where I'm headed in search of happiness

I'm like a rolling stone, can't stay in one place When you get bitter and want to do better you have to make a change

Getting up on the road, then I'll sing a toast to you Empty hands, empty pockets but in my heart there's a burning flame

I'm an untamed wild thing ever since '93 and I've got no money - I swear that's changing now

('Cause I'm) Going to the west that's wild, where the best people are wicked and corrupt And even if I'm very successful Take one step at a time I'm never safe

I'm going to the west that's wild where trade and barter is mild and unhinged I say yes, no problem, put my soul on the line and then it's just taking that chance

I'm still on the road not very far along I strum my guitar with my leather boots, dragging a trail through the sand Dressed for the role, hope you're swept up with me Took me thirty years to figure out - just being me

I'm going to the west that's wild, where the best people are wicked and corrupt And even if I'm very successful Take one step at a time I'm never safe

I'm going to the west that's wild where trade and barter is mild and unhinged I say yes, no problem, put my soul on the line and then it's just taking that chance

I'm just taking that chance

Welcome to the west that's wild... Welcome to the west that's wild Welcome to the west that's wild You get one chance to strike while the iron is hot There it is - opportunity

('Cause I'm) Going to the west that's wild, where the best people are wicked and corrupt And even if I'm very successful Take one step at a time I'm never safe

I'm going to the west that's wild where trade and barter is mild and unhinged I say yes, no problem, put my soul on the line and then it's just taking that chance

Welcome to the west that's wild.

Translation notes

The first thing to remark upon here is the title and lyric vestrið villt. The actual common Icelandic term for the Wild West, which is also the normal, obvious way to translate it, is "Villta vestrið", which literally just means "the wild west".

So why is the song called "Vestrið villt" and not "Villta vestrið", exactly? Most obviously, "Villta vestrið" is four syllables where "wild, wild west" is three, and Matthías wanted the equivalent of "Welcome to the wild, wild west" to scan properly and sound good. Icelandic word order is often somewhat flexible, especially in poetry, and it'd be fairly normal to turn the phrase around to "Vestrið villta". But to make it three syllables he also leaves the definite ending off the adjective. That's a very unusual, poetic thing to do, though not by any means unknown - poems and lyrics do the same thing occasionally, but it has a definite unusual, antiquated sound to it. You would never refer to the Wild West like that in normal language.

Now, the primary motivation for translating it this way is almost certainly just the syllable count. It's a construction that is as a translation of "wild west" while preserving the rhythm of the song. But the overall effect that it gives, at least to me, is kind of interesting - it sort of decouples the lyric from the actual American Wild West, which ultimately has a different name, and instead puts those two words together in a way where you might be more likely to consider them separately. It's the west, and it's wild. And that actually feels kind of appropriate to the song! Bashar may be wearing a cowboy hat, but he isn't literally going to the Wild West - the story in the music video, after all, shows him going to Iceland. To capture this part of the feel of it, I rendered the lyric as "the west that's wild" - which coincidentally also scans appropriately in English - although that doesn't capture the unusual poetic nature of the phrasing.

There are little lines in the Icelandic translation that are sort of a bit more colorful than the English equivalent, which is fun. "I gotta hit the highway, yeah, here I go again" is rendered as "Hendi mér upp á veginn, svo syng ég þína skál", which I backtranslated as "Getting up on the road, then I'll sing a toast to you," with the toast being original to the Icelandic translation. (It also technically uses an expression that literally means throwing himself up onto the road, which has a bit more force to it than "I gotta".) "Got a can-do attitude and nothing to lose" becomes Bashar wagering his soul, which sounds a bit more dramatic.

The English version says that in the wild, wild west the only rest is for the wicked, a negation of the Biblical idiom "No rest for the wicked": in other words, in the wild, wild west, everyone is punished but the wicked. We don't really have an equivalent idiom in Icelandic, and Matthías went a different route that's fun in a different way, going for the internal rhyme of illt and spillt with the villt in vestrið villt. That rhythmic rhyme has a good and crunchy sound that I like a lot. The meaning winds up being a little different but having a similar air: in the west the the wicked and corrupt are the 'best people'. Similarly, later the English version speaks of the wild, wild west being the best place for business, but Matthías goes for the crunchy internal rhyme with villt again, this time with mild and tryllt. They're sort of antonyms and I'm not quite sure how to interpret trade and barter being both mild and unhinged, but the rhyme still sounds neat. Bashar has studded chaps and is playing spaghetti guitar, but Matthías's translation ditches the studded chaps (I would have no idea how to translate that either) and calling it a spaghetti guitar specifically in favor of the new appropriately Western imagery of dragging a trail through the sand.

Where in English, even if you do your best and you pass the test doesn't mean you'll make it, in Icelandic even if I'm very successful and take one step at a time I'm never safe, which makes the whole thing sound a bit more dangerous - emphasizing having to be careful and yet not being safe, rather than the difficulty of making it.

The English "Why the hell wouldn't I risk it?" becomes "Svo er bara að taka sénsinn", or "Then it's just taking that chance." Séns is slang, though older slang, and actually derives from the same root as chance, though I think it came here via the Nordic languages rather than English. Slightly different meaning but same general point about choosing to take that risk, different lines that I think are both fairly punchy in different ways.

There's one bit where I think the translation may be outright losing a bit of nuance. In English "I dressed up and I put it on, hoping I'd fit the scene / Took thirty damn years to figure out, I just gotta be me" sounds to me like he's describing having originally tried to dress up for a role and tried to fit in before he discovered he just had to be himself, but in the translation, "Klæddur fyrir hlutverkið, vona að þið hrífist með" is in the present tense, as if he's describing now being dressed up for a role and currently hoping to sweep this audience with him, more as if this current role is the 'being himself' he's figured out. But that's only if I'm understanding the nuance in the original English correctly, of course - I would imagine Matthías worked with Bashar directly on the translation and he approved of the phrasing.

#bashar murad #vestrið villt #wild wild west #lyrics #translation

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sydsweenys · 4 months

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petergadiot Skál! #ad Thank you to @talisker for taking me on this Icelandic adventure through an exploration of tasting notes and Nordic landscapes. Be sure to discover the whole Talisker portfolio for yourself through Reserve Bar & Drizly. 🥃

#pgadiotedit #peter gadiot #petergadiotedit #qotsedit #mine*

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barnes-lothbrok · 2 years

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Dance with me

Ivar x reader

Summary - As everyone is celebrating the recent raids. Ivar watches his wife.

Warnings - implied smut, swears, fluff

Word count - 1k

A/n - Honestly not sure what this is. It was meant to be a cute fluff idea and turned into this.

○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○

Song and merriment filled the air as the fire in the heath burned. While the snow fell outside, the hall was filled with joy as the summer raids were celebrated and praise was given to the gods for the bounty the summer had brought them.

Kattagat was set for the winter months. This year's crops and raids had ensured that the town and surrounding villages wouldn't starve over the coming freeze.

Ivar sat on his throne, nursing a cup of mead as he watched the celebrations around him. His people were happy, that should have made him happy too but his gut held a bitter feeling.

While people fucked in corners and songs were sung loudly, his blue eyes were trained on his wife.

You had the biggest smile on your face as you sang the latest song, with Hvitserk's arm over your shoulders and cheek pressed against his as you both sang completely out of tune.

"You sound like dying goats" Ubbe teased the pair of you when the song ended.

You flipped him off. "Fuck you! We are amazing! The best in all the land"

You defended yours and Hvitserk awful singing before breaking into giggles when Hvitserk sang an unrecognisable tune as if to prove the point.

"Gods, Hvitty! Ubbe maybe right" you laughed and patted his shoulder.

"Whatever do you mean? I have the voice of a siren" Hvitserk sang again, right in your ear to which you shoved him playfully away.

After a few more rounds of ale, people began to boo your duet. You slammed your cup down on the table and climbed on top.

"Who dares to boo at their queen!" You roared, with a face of pure rage.

The hall fell silent for a moment and Ivar moved forward in his chair. For the first time that evening he looked excited.

You were his killer queen. A shield maiden with legend that could almost reveal Lagertha's. Having grown up around the Ragnarsons, it was no surprise that Ivar chose you as his queen. When you wanted to be, you could be just as deadly as he was.

You were his rose. Beautiful and sweet but you had your thorns.

The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and a few moans from dark corners. There was an air of suspense before you burst out laughing.

"Wow, that was incredible!" You laughed manically, holding your stomach as you doubled over in laughter. "I'm not going to kill anyone while we are celebrating. I was merely going to suggest I dance instead"

There was a collective sigh of relief as Ivar pouted and slumped back in his chair. Watching his wife kill would have made the festival more fun.

"Sigurd! Dear brother-in-law of mine!" You yelled "Give us your best tune"

Sigurd's band began to play and with a shout of "May we blessed another year! SKÁL!" from you, the party was back under way.

You danced with Hvitserk on the table, having your own little dance battle throwing the oddest movements at each other before waltzing along it.

He dripped you in front of Ivar, who's upside down face held a deep frown. His head rested in his hand as he looked completely unimpressed.

"Looks like someone needs a smile" Hvitserk smirked as he whispered in your ear.

You nodded and approached your husband, gently placing yourself in his lap. You cupped his cheeks as he scowled at you.

"Having fun without me, wife?" He said bitterly.

"Not as much as I have with you" you replied before gently squishing his cheeks and kissing his pouted lips.

A small smile broke his frown as he pulled you in for more. He tasted of the mead he'd been drinking. You pulled away as it became more heated and rested your head against his.

It wasn't for the fact that there were people around, you didn't care for that. Many festivals had seen the king and queen almost fucking on the throne. Ivar never let it get further than making out, your pleasure was for his eyes only.

"Let's go to our room" Ivar whispered but you shook your head

"Dance with me" you said breathlessly as though he'd stolen the air from your lungs with the kiss.

He suddenly pulled back and stared at you. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" He frowned.

Never had you asked him to dance, you knew full well there were things his legs didn't allow him to do.

"No" you snapped back quickly "no, of course I'm not" your tone softer.

"Then why ask of me something I can not give?"

"Just trust me" you looked him in the eyes. You had a plan that much was clear and he would trust you with his life. You had saved it many times.

He studied your face before nodding as you slowly moved off his lap and held out a hand to him.

You waited as he picked up his crutch and limped down the throne steps to join you in a clear space. He swallowed as he felt eyes in him but you kept him looking at you with an encouraging smile.

Sigurd changed the song, as if you had planned for this, while you gently held his arm above you before twirling around and circled him like prey.

As he was beginning to feel stupid for just standing there, you span into him and whispered "see you are dancing with me"

It was then he realised you were using his body to dance on. It may not have been the same as other couples danced but as your body swayed against his, your arms around his neck with his hands rested on your hips, he couldn't help the broad smile on his face.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #vikings #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar x y/n #ivar x you #vikings fanfiction #ivar fluff

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estellemareckova · 9 months

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Často premýšľam, či sú texty k mojím fotkám plnohodnotný doprovod, alebo len akousi barličkou, ktorou ako-tak vyvažujem slabú výpovednú hodnotu svojích fotografií.

Neviem.

Toto je opäť jeden zo všedných záberov ku ktorým sa mi pýta niečo napísať, akoby sa pre tento záber spojilo viacero ľudí ktorí sa nikdy nestretli, niekoľko spomienok vložených do jedného momentu, je to zbierkou môjho trojtýždňového životu na ostrove.

Arašidy od Vietnamca menom Ňa ( netuším však ako sa jeho meno píše), do domu sa prisťahoval len nedávno. Jediný pochopil že nie som Švédka a keď som mu včera ráno priniesla do obývačky kávu, s úsmevom povedal ,,děkuji”.

Islandský horský tymián, ktorý sme včera so Sindrim našli na turistike ako malá pripomienka, že aj v tých najhorších podmienkach si život nájde cestu a spôsob.

Kameň, ktorý mi cestou na Móskarðshnjúkar podal do ruky môj islandský priateľ, geológ, so slovami ,,aha, kryštáľ” s nasledujúcou prednáškou o chovaní skál a šutrov, ktoré žijú a dýchajú viac, ako si myslíme.

Sopečný kameň z Litli-Hrútur, ktorý mi raz podvečer do izby priniesol Paul (Francúz ktorý s nami býval v dome - prišla som na to že tam býva až po týždni, keďže vôbec nevychádzal von). Sklamane mi kameň podal, hovoriac že si ho do lietadla vziať nemôže, tak mi ho tu nechá. Ani ja si kameň do lietadla vziať v tom prípade nebudem môcť, ale aspoň teraz mi bude robiť na parapete spoločníka.

Skicár ktorý som doniesla ešte z Írska, chudák, prežil si svoje ale na Islande odpočíva a ešte som nemala priestor otvoriť ho.

Kľúče od domu a môjho pokojíčku - Vietnamci mi na dvere izby navŕtali ďalší zámok, že keď som fotograf a mám techniku, aby mi niečo nezmizlo.

Raz som sa omylom vymkla zo svojej izby, myslím že to bolo druhý deň v krajine, rukami nohami som sa pani Dagur snažila vysvetliť čo sa stalo a že je to teda fakt problém keď iba ja mám kľúč. Dagur sa z chuti zasmiala, vbehla do spálne, spoza dverí bolo počuť iba tresk šuflíkov. Obehla ma v chodbe a až priam hrdinsky odomkla moju izbu.

Tak pred kým si teda zamykám svoju techniku?

A v neposlednom rade všetky moje prstene ktoré zabúdam nosiť, pretože kvôli nechutne (ale vlastne veľmi čistej horskej) siričito-vajcovej vode ktorú v Reyku máme, si ich musím dávať dole. Dlho by biele nezostali.

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lintubintu · 2 months

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Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. 💌💜

Thank you <3 I don´t have a favourite playlist and like five different means to listen to music, so I chose the first random one from each source :D

(I also got the same ask from @tuituipupu )

Bannlyst by Gåte

It´s Crazy It´s Party (feat. Tommy Cash) by Käärijä

Skál by Corvus Corax

Seas by RYK

Ich will dich nie mehr sehen by Oomph!

#Rowan beloved #music ask

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 9 months

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If you haven't heard of Miracle of Sound, you should REALLY look them up. Specifically the songs Vahalla Calling Me, Skál, Ode to Fury, Choose to be Better and Wake the White Wolf. I think you will really like them. You need to listen to ALL the versions of Vahalla Calling but save the Trio version that features That Bass Voice for last, I promise you won't regret it.

This was very cool. I finally had time to check them out.

youtube

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thorsiffe-dragonheart · 5 months

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Brokenbrow (pt. 1)

Like many a night, Thorsiffe found themself testing their mettle in the fighting pit of the Punch Cage. They had discarded their usual clothes and jewelry in favor of a sports bra and workout shorts, both a vibrant blue. The shorts displayed a red dragon on their butt, which they'd had a good laugh at upon first donning them. Thorsiffe's body was a canvas, bearing tattoos upon all parts of it in all colors of the rainbow and then some, proudly on display within the cage. They had pulled their hair up into bun, showing off the compass-like symbol on their neck, though the bun had become messy from exertion.

The crowd erupted in cheers and victory roars as they charged the staggering vampire. They leapt. Within the blink of an eye, they'd pulled back and erupted their legs in force again, dropkicking the vampire. Their feet planted against his chest, sending him crashing into the air and through the cage's fence, ripping it out of its sockets.

Landing upon their back, Thorsiffe quickly rolled over and sprang to their feet, eyes darting to their opponent. He, on the other hand, simply let out a groan and remaind unconscious on the floor. Thorsiffe's split lip widened into a grin, more cheering erupted from the crowd, and they raised their bloodied fists into the air in victory.

A moment's pause before the next fight. Their last foe was carried off, Thorsiffe was given a chair and a bottle of water, and some employees set to repairing the cage. It only took a minute for them to catch their breath - a benefit of their blood. Just as Thorsiffe had downed the bottle of water with worrying speed, a giant of a man, at least seven feet tall and with arms like logs, came up to them carrying two large mugs of beer.

Thorsiffe greeted Egil, their cousin, with a smile, and he gave them a nod and a pat on the back. One of the beers traded hands. In doing so, it went from looking like a normal glass in Egil's hand, to comically large in Thorsiffe's. "Skál," they cheersed, clinking their glasses and taking a drink. A ridiculous amount disappeared Thorsiffe's throat before they let out a satisfied 'aah', wiping the foam off their upper lip.

They and Egil talked and laughed some in their native tongue. Mostly it was Egil giving Thorsiffe pointers about where they could yet improve, and the two of them eyeing the room and theorizing who their next foe might be.

Some minutes passed, and one of the Cage's organizers came up to tell Thorsiffe the time for their next bout was nigh. They downed what remained of their beer and stepped into the cage again.

"In the right corner," the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, "red-haired and wild, the northern wolf, we have... Dragonheart!"

Cheers and clapping came from the crowd, and Thorsiffe grinned and raised their fists into the air once more, letting out a full-throated howl. They felt alive.

"We have a bit of a themed rematch tonight," the announcer continued, and Thorsiffe quieted again. One did well to respect their foe, even in a friendly bout. Their eyes lit up with curiosity upon hearing they had faced this one before, and they eagerly eyed the other side of the cage.

"For in the left corner, fiery and calculated, a prodigy of battle-magic, we have..." the speakers boomed. A black woman stepped into the ring, wearing a similar outfit to Thorsiffe, though hers was a fiery red, and a thick braid of dreads fell down her back. "Inferno!"

Inferno grinned, pointing a palm at Thorsiffe, her fingers spread out and bent like claws. "Ready to get burned again, wolf?"

Thorsiffe returned the grin, narrowing their eyes. "Play at fire. I shall break your bones like ice."

Instantaneously, fire crackles in the air. It was the same move, the same setup, that Inferno had used upon them last time. This time, Dragonheart is prepared. They charge forward, shifting on their feet and crouching, weaving underneath the gout of flame, though they still feel tendrils of it licking at their skin. The spell passes right through the cage's fence, and a group of customers jump for cover. Like a wave erupting to the sky, Thorsiffe springs up, pushing Inferno's hand up into the air, her fire spreading out against the ceiling.

Inferno's other hand starts moving, meaning to fling some curse at Dragonheart, but their momentum has not yet ceased. Their fist shot forward, into Inferno's face, and is met with a satisfying crack. The witch flinches, clutching her face with her free hand. Thorsiffe comes in closer, pressing herself against Inferno and all but barreling the witch over. Their faces side by side, they grip Inferno by the hips, and perform a throw. With their leg, they kick up one of Inferno's, wrecking her footing. Lifting her up the rest of the way with their hands, they twist their own torso to the side, using their thigh as an achor to roll their foe upon. Inferno yelps and lands on the cage's floor with a loud thud.

Thorsiffe lets themself follow, falling on top of her, but by the time they reach the ground, Inferno's has opened her mouth, filling with red hot light and the crackling of flames. She spews forth fire like a dragon of legend. Thorsiffe rolls over, away from her. Their arm is caught in the flames still, though only for a second, and they let out a cry as their skin is caught in the all-encompassing pain of flame.

On their knees, Thorsiffe grunts, having to pat out flames that found purchase on their skin. Meanwhile, Inferno gets up and laughs, "who's the dragon now, eh?"

She points her palm forward again, but Thorsiffe had rushed forward faster than Inferno could respond. The curse finds purchase only in the ground, disappearing with a loud 'swish'.

"I need only your heart, no?" Thorsiffe giggles, pushing their shoulder against her hips and gripping Inferno behind the knees with both hands, breaking her posture. They fall to the ground once more, and Thorsiffe is quick to climb on top and pin Inferno's hands against the floor.

Inferno laughs again, "you don't learn, do you, dear?" Fire starts crackling down in her throat yet again, yet Thorsiffe simply grins. Inferno frowns, but before she can unleash her spell, Thorsiffe crashes down upon her, flinging their forehead into her face. The spell fizzles out, and any tension Inferno had held melts into the ground.

"You should get more creative," they snorted, getting up again to the deafening roaring of the crowd.

Part 2

#solo #((repost bc the thread this was for originally unfortunately got cut short))#((pt 2 is actually for a new thread but I realized making it one post would make it entirely too long))#((so now I'm kinda akwardly posting this as a solo ig))#((k bye <3))

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lubotomies · 1 year

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eddsworld icelandic dub

þannig þetta er helvíti? hvílík sjón!

hvað myndi ég þurfa vini fyrir þegar ég á þessu að halda?

ekki andlitið!

ekki vera svona kjánalegur, svoleiðis gerist bara í kvikmyndum.

yey! ég er vinsæll!

já, þett’er ég... heyrðu... ég-ég verð líklegast ekki hérna mikið lengur þannig mér fannst ég ætti að heyra í þér. já, akkúrat. já, með auka ansjósum, takk.

ég hata þig, þú hentir mjólkinni minni! mjólkin var útrunnin! ÞÚ ert útrunnin! hvernig dirfistu! veistu hvað? til fjandans með þetta!

ég legg til að við hendum Tomma í það. hljómar vel fyrir mér. eða þá, við gætum ýtt á þennan stóra, rauða takka sem er klárlega merktur ‘ef um er að ræða uppvakningafaraldur, ýttu á þennan takka til að opna hliðið til þess að frelsa alla/eða rauðhærða borgara sem eru fastir hér inni’ ...hendum Tomma! ég hata ykkur öll svo mikið.

en ég hélt að við... ég hélt að við værum vinir?

ekki vera kjánalegur, bara Tommi getur vaxað skegg. ég á við sjúkdóm að glíma!

geimkettirnir munu drepa okkur öll! drepa okkur öll? DREPA OKKUR ÖLL! DREPOKUÖLL?

þú tókst þátt í paintball leik notandi ALVÖRU byssur!

og ÞÚ ást þessa böku! nei, ég gerði það ekki! jú, þú gerðir það víst. ég gerði það ekki! jú víst. nei ég át þessa böku ekki! sjáðu til, þú heldur á henni... ��arna... ó. ó þú ert góður.

af hverju?! af því að ég er vinur þinn, rassgatið þitt! að auki er ég með neyðarkókið. Múhaha!

hvað í nafni þessarar gómsætu skál af Eddsworld morgunkorni varð fyrir bassa minn?!

jæja... þá er kominn tími á því að ég fari. við gleymum þér aldrei, Tord! þér né minningareyðandibyssunni þinni... ah, svo margar minningar! ...ég trúi ekki að Tord sé að fara... já, Edd, ég þarf að fylgja draumnum mínum og búa mér nafn í stóruborginni. hljómar vel fyrir mér! ... hver... er ég...?

#appealing to no one but me

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