Flugvélabensín

Hey here is a poem! From the spoken word CD Flugmaður, in collaboration with múm. The CD came out in 1999, but that same year they did the music for my play – Náttúruóperan.

I made a rough english translation of the poem here:

Airplane fuel

Airplane fuel. Thats my favorite smell. To enter the parking lot of a

foreign airport in sweltering summer heat and find the smell of airplane

fuel blended with diesel smoke from the buses and you regret

not flying in shorts and think the taxi driver will kill you but still:

You know that the next two weeks will be great. Airplane fuel. Thats the

smell of adventure and when I feel that smell on my walk past Reykjavík

airport I get butterflies in my stomach and regret that I’m not wearing

shorts and feel like the next two weeks will be fabulous.