The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1984, Qupperneq 37

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
35
SANDY BAR
by Guttormur J. Guttormsson
(Translated by Paul Bjarnason)
FOREWORD
Guttormsson’s classic has been translated into English at least
eight times. Some of these have been published in The Icelandic
Canadian. The editor has not been able to find any evidence
that Paul Bjarnason’s version has appeared in our journal.
Should he be mistaken, he need not apologize. The quality of
Mr. Bjarnason’s rendition warrants its re-publication.
Long I strolled, though late the hour.
Lightnings set the skies aglower,
While a drenching summer shower
Swiftly filled each step ajar.
Through the aspen arbors gleaming
On I sauntered, vaguely dreaming,
‘Til I came upon a quiet
Camping ground at Sandy Bar;
Where the pioneers, in passing,
Pitched their tents at Sandy Bar.
Silence reigned. All signs have faded
Since the early fathers waded
Through the leagues of lakes that made it
Like an ocean near and far.
Death, that in their dreams abided,
Darkly o’er the floods presided,
Casting ’neath his falcon feathers
Fateful gloom on Sandy Bar,—
From his wings, so broad, a baleful
Black-out over Sandy Bar.
Sturdy fathers, fey and ailing,
Feared the Summoning Angel’s hailing
Ere they could be set for sailing
Safely to life’s Port afar.
Sick for weeks on ships a-tossing
Souls were not prepared for crossing.
Standing face to face with terror
Few could rest at Sandy Bar.
Pressed for time, on pins and needles
People walked at Sandy Bar.
All their tragic toil and scourging
To my heart like pain came surging;
For the old remains emerging
Marred the foreground like a scar.
As I looked the lightning flashes
Lit the scattered heaps and ashes,
Where exhausted men and mothers
Mutely rest at Sandy Bar;
Where the immigrants so gamely
Gave their all at Sandy Bar.
Those who came to seek and settle
Showed their earnest will and mettle,
Well content to wage a battle
With conditions under par.
Since the hour of immigration
All their mass-determination
Was to make their way to freedom,
Westward bound from Sandy Bar;
Blaze a trail through bog and jungle
Branching out from Sandy Bar.
Thoughts of old within me straining
On my heart their darts were training,
As if cosmic eyes were raining
All the tears of pain there are.
Shafts of lightning, like a token,
Left the highest trees all broken,
As if spirit hopes were hewing
Highways out of Sandy Bar,
Hewing lanes to life and glory
Leading out from Sandy Bar.
Thus the braves who fell a-fighting
From their graves the path are lighting,
All the willing ones uniting
With their long-abandoned car.
Every hope shall earn fruition
In each mind that has ambition
To take up the uncompleted
Exodus from Sandy Bar,