You never know what you will come across on the walls of Reykjavík

I hesitate to call this graffiti, but whatever it is, I love it. It doesn’t hurt that the verse is by my favourite poet, Tómas Guðmundsson:

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Click to enlarge

My attempt at a translation:

By the edge of the dock the town has fallen into a trance,

and lowly hovels are turned into heavenly temples.

And overhead the northern lights perform an all-night dance

in naked glory across the roadless sky.

From Tunglskinsnætur by Tómas Guðmundsson (1901-1983)

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