May. 8th, 2009

bet: (Bunny happy)
Dregnar eru litmjúkar dauðrósir á hryngjörn lauf í haustskógi. Svo voru þínir dagar sjúkir en fagrir, þú óskabarn ógæfunnar.

Which roughly translates to, "Drawn are soft colored death roses on (prone to fall) leaves in a forest of autumn. Thus were your days sick but beautiful, you wish child of misfortune."

It's insanely "emo", but I like it a lot for some reason. In Icelandic for the most part. This concludes my finals, yes the last one was The History of Icelandic Literature, how did you guess? It was a mad dash for the finish line; the last task was to write a 200-250 words blurb about a selected author and I was running out of time.

Four minutes to twelve and it went something like this: Typing typing (doing word count, ack not enough) typing typing (doing word count... more more!) typing typing typing... time's up!

I finished the sentence and counted. 250 words.

Perhaps now I can stop with the insomnia... starting now?

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