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The Death of the Sun's Daughter

By Anders Fjellner

Near the holy door in turf hut
The Sun's daughter -- Njávesheatne
Tired of life's heavy burdens
Yearned to 'scape, to another place
Wishes to see God, the master
The Thunder God, foe of giants
Wants to see the Sun, her father.
She awaits the spirit of death,
In turf hut near the holy door
The Sun's daughter -- Njávesheatne

She who corralled the wild reindeer
Gave it then to the Sun's children
On her last journey she shall fare
He stands by her bed, her son,
The evil Áhchesheane's bane
At the foot of the bed a girl
Young daughter of Áhchesheane

The Sun's beautiful daughter speaks
She's hard to hear, weak is her voice
Hear her words, and remember them!
The Sun's beautiful daughter says:
The Sun's setting, night is coming
Darkness blankets lovely Sápmi
Morning will come, will it not?

The sun slowly sinks, the wolf comes
Slinks around in the dark of night
Wily it is when it's hunting,
Morning will come, will it not?
The sun is setting, the herd shrinks,
The pest rages, insects torment,
Children grope about in the dark,
Morning will come, will it not?

The sun slowly sinks. Withdraws its light,
The Sun's daughter to father goes
Takes with her too the Sun's children
Morning will come, will it not?