Fra Templet - Morten Harket

Jeg drømte det var i mitt tolvte år

Da stjernene sluttet å rope

Ble halvmånen skjult bak en stripet sky

Og steinene sang rundt hver snømann:

Ingen tør røpe fargen på blod

Huden din tør ikke pipe

Mot slakterhuset der kyrne slo

Tom melk i en månestripe

Jeg drømte det var i mitt tolvte år

Da jeg kom tilbake fra templet

Ble far eller mor redd hva det var

Og spurte meg hvem jeg kom fra

Jeg drømte jeg svarte: Fra ingen

Fra nå er jeg fremmed og snill

Og står under skyggevingen

Av alt som ikke er til

I dreamed it was in my twelfth year

When the stars stopped shouting

The crescent was hidden behind a striped cloud

And the stones sang around every snowman:

No one dares to reveal the color of blood

Your skin does not dare to pipe

Towards the slaughterhouse where the cows beat

Empty milk in a moon stripe

I dreamed it was in my twelfth year

When I returned from the temple

Was father or mother afraid what it was

And asked me who I came from

I dreamed I answered: From no one

From now on I am a stranger and kind

And stands under the shadow wing

Of all that does not exist