One of our prompts for Creative Writing was to take a poem in another language and translate it as you hear it. Seeing as I already sing along with Sigur Ros despite the fact that it is in Icelandic (/Hopelandish), I figured it was worth a shot. "I'll Lick His Sin Good" was the result after I organized it a bit and I was entertained to find that it actually sounded like a real poem.
This could be a commentary on how you can find beauty and art in everything, even when it starts off as nothing. It could also be a commentary on how liberal poets are actually just pretentious people spitting useless jargon. Or it could just be a commentary on how finals do stupid things to students' brains, resulting in creations like this. Whatever your perspective, enjoy the real version. (It's entertaining to listen and read along with the words below.)
How silver I’ll
Least that I’m acclimating
Always the glout
Scared of skirt-then image
In Oscar’s mirror
Oh look at a way we’re out
Now give us a
No right to sigh
Oh maid
Ouster the Prague
In the cart of sprinkle
Look here, you Prague
On the other sequel
In Oscar’s mirror
Oh look at a way we’re out
Now give us a
Now far a dance
All penguins the slow, slow stead
While I disa—
I’ll gnaw you one
All night
Lambaste the winner
Cry used ant dinner
Ya kinky towelly
Or rent a howly
Or eat clam outin
Ye follow me cloutin
The army victims
The army kisses
I’ll rip my panter
I’ll toast to Anter
He’s sitting like him
He’s sitting like him!
I mean my simple
I’ll lick his sin good
I’ll start de vala
With lip and trala
I’ll turn this smile off
Leave a s-car on
Err... Emmy Ralla
He pushed him farther
He bested ‘im-a
Cry you some dinner
I used to know him
He followed me gloating
Ye kinky towelly
Or rent a howlly
The army victims
The army kisses
I’ll rip my banter
I’ll toast to anter
He’s sitting like him
He’s sitting like him!
I mean my simple
I’ll lick his sin good.
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