ég skrifa frekar ljóð á ensku, með aðeins örfáum undartekningum. hér er eitt af mínum uppaháldsljóðum sem ég hef samið- á ensku.
^^
titillin á frumáli og ljóðið sjálft:

Memories of summer days

eyes watching eyes in the dead silence of day
curious minds reading the jealousy colored in blue
dancing between the lips of unfaithful lovers
who'd think forevermore would be a synonym for
nevermore? Not that scrawny excuse for a scamp;
that's a questionably good disguise for a novel

lets give them a chance to inspect our souls
until theirs can't take the view of this, vile love
they are their own opponents in our little ‘world’
where they liked to call home and decorate with wind chimes
so that the summer wouldn't be as depressing
without the wind to remind them about what they didn't have

we'll settle down in a green cottage by the meadows
things won't be the way they used to be, facile and chaste
due to lack of proper preparation for the upcoming winter
we only live to be loved, bathed in unimpressive achievements
and like them, we'll get lost on the tracks of repetition;
condemned to tell the same stories, relive all those moments

the sun abandons the sky for another; much warmer- continent
the tongues bring the news of the upcoming catastrophe
I see them entwine their words nervously, like never before
no longer will the eyes watch eyes in silence of the day
and lips won't be read, for the cold has chopped them up
and all that's left of the summer days

are the memories and wind chimes.