There are coves and water and islands,
thousand fjords and thousand peaks,
snowdrifts that seldom reach the snow,
the valleys, where the huge waterfall plummets.

Nasty is the long winter;
still our spruce forest stands green,
and when leaves burst on the hillside,
our area gets good hopes.

Long days and short nights
brightens up the hillside ‘round the lit soil;
shore and fjord and mountain and chalet
glow in sun from south and north.

Children of those who built the country
are still on the site;
the farm stands in the same condition
built and fenced as the farmer wants.

Used to struggle more than cuddle,
the kin play on land and sea.
May he sit in honor and bliss
steadily on the site in safety and peace.

Old Norway, northern most of neighbors,
is our own heredity.
Old Norway, northern most of neighbors,
is our own heredity / legacy.