Gamansleikur

Harrin gav ikki kollutari kúgv horn, at hon skuldi ikki stanga, og betur er at elska dyggan hund enn illan træl, segði hann, – tey tíðindi ganga sum rótasúpan, at Jens hevur lovað at spreingja kong í luftina. Tey siga, at hann hevur keypt sær ein fullan kassa við dynamitt.

Bikarið er fult, rópti Jónas, kongavitjanin er avlýst. Lat meg tosa við Jensin, segði Hanna Malena og fór. Hon fann hann niðri í neystinum. Hann sat friðarligur á einum geisla og riðaði eina skrubbunót.

Er tað satt, Jens, at tú hevur keypt ein kassa við dynamitt ? spurdi konan.

Tað, sum ikki er lygn, er satt, segði Jens.

Hvat skalt tú brúka dynamittið til ?

At spreingja við.

Hvat skalt tú spreingja ? Einki svar.

Hvat skalt tú spreingja, Jens ? Sig tað nú.

Kong.
...
The Lord refrained from granting the cow horns to keep it from butting, and it is better to love a faithful dog than a bad man, he said, – the news spread like wildfire, that Jens had promised to blow up the king. They say he has bought a whole crate of dynamite.

That was the final straw, Jónas shouted, the royal visit has been called off. Let me speak to the Jens, said Hanna Melena and left. She found him in the boathouse. Quietly, he sat there mending a dragnet.

Is it true, Jens, that you have bought a whole crate of dynamite? the woman asked.

That, which is not a lie, is true, said Jens.

What will you use the dynamite for?

An explosion.

What explosion? No answer.

What are you going to blow up, Jens? Tell me.

The king.