Olivia kom som en sødlig brise.
Hvor let er sin' øjne til hendes at vende!
og smilet så varmt som stråler fra hende,
hvor hvermand finder sit skjul i en krise,
hjertet så åbent og glæden så rar
for den som af lykken rammet var.
Han vil gerne kigge på hende;
de ikke så modne lænde
trods alt er en del af den charme
som viste hun ham allene;
hun stod der på nøgne bene
med håndklædet i sine arme.
© Jón Valur Jensson,

A Woman Met in Birkimelur Street

Wow, as I met you, how fair you were,

mildly smiling, and anywhere

I cycle my way through West of town

somehow, you are in the heart of mine.

First, though, I had to see you again,

back did I cycle and found you, then,

where waiting (you told me) you were for the bus.

Hotly and sweetly I'm thinking of us!

Might this be in the cards of Fate:

seeing you, Beauty, soon or late,

in town or anywhere, this would fill

someone again with that rarest thrill.



For Emma Shapplin

From the depth of the heart such a song

to the soul's incredulous ears

and eyes filled with joy, where belong

all beauty and love, she endears

herself to his mind, possessed

with this burning flame in his chest----

she is simply the best.

April 2018

The One who Is


Craving for beauty day and night,

imagining, in my wildest dreams,

phantoms of powder to be so bright,

found have I one who is, not seems!

This is my fair Emmanuelle,

natural beauty straight from the Lord.

Those are the charms for which I fell.

Might our hearts be in sweet accord !


Sweet Cécile

I'm drawn back to that sweet Cécile,

magnetic was her soft appeal,

and with her gaze of purity

and soul and flesh in harmony,

I dream of our unity.

Tell me your secrets

Tell me you're free for me !

Tell me your secrets, my dear.

I'm waiting for you to hear

my amorous melody,

made to the taste of your soul, love,

as I desire you whole, love !


A poem of love's joy, for Victoria

A lawyer has found her poet fine.

"Indeed we are rich if you are mine."

Smilingly did she have her sips

of rosy wine just to wet her lips.

Cosily, in her summer-like dress

on the sofa she will his gentle hands bless.

"Soft is your skin, and sweet are your thighs,"

says he with such a glimpse in his eyes.

Touching her knees with a gentle kiss,

"so close to you is my path to bliss!"

The sun will be shining on their fine days,

blessed as he is by his muse's gaze.

And under her butt he will gladly lift,

as they are mounting their horses swift.

In- and out-doors with his Helen of Troy,

riding so oft by the Hill of Joy.

Likewise, resting in many a place,

he takes his time to adore her grace …

and nurture with love in mutual bliss.

No longer she called herself a Miss!

"The tits of your breasts are my soul's abode,"

he mused in his joy, and on they rode.

Such is the tale of a pair well-known:

Victoria sweet and her poet Jón.

                                               1–10 August, 2016