Dette landet - Odd Nordstoga

Ville berre sei eit ord

Ville peike på eit spor

Ville skru musikken ned og gje beskjed

Ville leite fram ei sak

Som ligg og støvar ned der bak

Som er sann om den er gløymd og skitna til

Ville sei deg som min bror

Dette landet er di mor

Ville seia det av glede og av trong

Til å minnast den fine og heimlege hamn

Som gjev luft og vide venger for min song

Skulle gjerne nok ein gong

Syngje fjellets store song

Om breane og viddene og snøen

Men eg vender blikket ned

Og så stansar eg ved det

Som gror av trass og vilje utpå bøen

Ville sei deg som min bror

Dette landet er di mor

Ville sei det som eg meinte det eg sa

Som eg tok av meg lua for blomar og blad

Og takka det frå inni meg ein stad

Og alltid er det lite me kan gjera

For Noreg er ein liten prikk i nord

Men paven er ein liten prikk i Roma

Så slik sett så er kongen like stor

Det er ‘kje sant at her er lite, me er mange

Det er ‘kje sant at her er smått, nei her er stort

Og det er sant det, at me elskar dette landet

Og den du møter etter vegen er din bror

Ville berre sei eit ord

Ville peike på eit spor

Ei bøn ifrå den store blåe jord

Ifrå skog og ifrå hav

Ifrå alt me haustar av

At me snart må finne vegen ut av ord

For det ropar til oss, bror

Dette landet er vår mor!

For det ropar på vår ære og vårt band

Til å vara den fine og heimlege hamn

Som lyser oss imot og er vårt land

Ville berre sei eit ord

Would point to a track

Would turn the music down and let go

Wanted to find a case

Lying and dusting down the back

Which is true if it is forgotten and dirty

Would say you like my brother

This country is your mother

Would say it of joy and of trong

To commemorate the nice and homely harbor

Which gives air and wide wings for my song

Would love to go again

Sing the mountain's great song

About the glaciers and the plains and the snow

But I look down

And then I stop there

Which grows out of defiance and will on the bow

Would say you like my brother

This country is your mother

Would say what I meant what I said

As I took off my hat for flowers and leaves

And thank you from inside me a city

And there is always little we can do

For Norway, there is a small dot in the north

But the pope is a small dot in Rome

So in that sense, the king is just as big

It's not true that there is little here, we are many

It's not true that here is small, no here is big

And it is true that we love this country

And the one you meet along the way is your brother

Ville berre sei eit ord

Would point to a track

A prayer from the great blue earth

From forest and from sea

From everything we cough off

That we must soon find the way out of words

Because it's calling to us, brother

This country is our mother!

Because it cries out for our honor and our band

To be the nice and homely port

Which lights us up and is our country