YOU SHOULDN’T TREAD ON THE GRASS

Du ska’ itte trø i graset

Du ska’itte trø i graset,
spede spira lyt få stå.
Mållaust liv har og ei mening
du lyt sjå og tenkje på.
På Guds jord og i hass hage
er du sjøl et lite strå.

Du ska’itte røre reiret,
reiret er ei lita seng.
Over tynne bån brer erla
ut sin vare varme veng.
Pipet i den minste strupe
ska’bli kvitring over eng.

Du ska’itte sette snurru
når du ser et hara-spor.
Du ska’sjå deg for og akte
alt som flyr og spring og gror.
Du er sjøl en liten vek en,
du treng sjøl en storebror.

You shouldn’t tread on the grass

You shouldn’t tread on the grass,
let the fragile seedling stand.
Speechless life has meaning too,
you should look at it and think.
On God’s earth and in his garden
you yourself are a little straw.

You shouldn’t disturb the nest,
the nest is a little bed.
Over the slender fledglings the wagtail
spreads its warm and tender wings.
The squeaking in the tiniest throat
becomes a twittering over the field.

You shouldn’t set a snare
when you see a hare track.
Watch out and care for
all that flies and springs and grows.
You are yourself a little weak thing,
you need yourself an older brother too.

Einar Skjæraasen (1900-1966)