Eg e ikkje bergteken,
Slik ho Margit Hjukse frå Sauherad var
[repeat]
Ho lengtar ut. Eg lengtar inn.
Ho lengtar ut. Eg lengtar inn.
Det e ho som ber sorgji så tronge
For meg fell nettane korte og dagane longe
Aleine eg aldri til kanten tør gå
Ho tok eismal vegjen til bergjet der låg
Hjarta ho drakk tomt
Eg og du kjenner ho vel? Lat oss tøma glaset på det
'Drik utor di, allerkjærasten min!'Drik utor di, allerkjærasten min!
For mykje for meg, for lite for deg
For lite, for mykje, og stundom akkurat nok
Ho kvilar hos kvitskjeggen i bergjet det blå
Med du og eg veggen til endes må trå
[English translation:]
The Mountain Prisoner
I am not a prisoner of the mountain
Such was Margit Hjukse from Sauherad3
She yearns the outside, I yearn the inside
She yearns the outside, I yearn the inside
It's she who carries the sorrow so strong
To me nights were short and days long
Alone I dare never to go to the fringe
She took alone the way that led to the mountain
The heart she drank empty
You and I know her well? Let's empty the glass on that
"Drink deeply, my dearest!"
"Drink deeply, my dearest!"
Too much for me, too little for you
Too little, too much, and sometimes precisely enough
She rests by the white-beard in the blue mountain
With you and me the way to the end must tread