Alright, used to be RinnePlus2, but I swear to God, last name change.

Hoppípolla is a beautiful song by Sigur Rós. Not that I am leading some promotion for them, but take the time to listen to them and be invited in a world of surrealism and pure emotion. They're Icelandic and the language is absolutely calming in their songs. I kinda wanted that effect in this story, so tell me if you got some sort of calm, openness feeling, okay? The lyrics are in Icelandic and through some sort of semi-reliable source, combined with Google Translate, the translation will be at the end of the story. I recommend listening to the song as you read or before, maybe even in a instrumental piano version, but hey, I can't/won't/don't tell you how to read.

I've been listening to this song basically non-stop during the process of writing this, and it's been pissing off my family. Hehe... Also, the way this story, with the first two lines and the next set, is laid out format-wise, I'm not too happy about. I wrote this in Word, so please excuse the spacing technique. This story is supposed to make you think, but I think I tried way, way, way too hard.

Everything belongs to its rightful owner. Thank you.


Hoppípolla
Jumping into Puddles

Brosandi
Hendumst í hringi
Höldumst í hendur

His shoes splashed against the wet ground. Water danced up and down as he continued walking. He held his black umbrella close to his hat-covered head, hoping for not a drop of rain on him. As he passed the park, he stopped and closed his eyes as the sound of laughing children rang about. He inhaled, cold autumn air burning his nose. Exhaling, condensation escaped, resembling dragon breath. Slowly opening his green eyes, he turned to the playground to watch.

Kids laughed as the rain soaked their clothes, careless of the world that lied before them. Some grabbed each others hands and spun in circles. Groups of them spun at the same time, neon colors and bright scarves tracing around them. Some jumped up and others down as the circles went on and on. Hats flew off and muddied when they hit the soaked grass. The kids could care less of it, holding each others' ungloved hands and feeling the cold warmth as blood circulated through their bodies.

Nothing mattered to them in that very moment. This was when they could play and have the rain wash their worries and stress away. This was when kids could be kids, humans could be humans, and fun could be fun. It was the time for naivety and innocence to thrive like it should. The pureness of children lessened the tension of atmosphere. Where adults desired to be notice, children begged to be undetected. Morals were unknown to children; death, life, hate, love, all unfathomable to them.

Allur heimurinn óskýr
nema þú stendur

He smiled, shook his head, and left the playground, letting kids be kids. With one hand in his jacket pocket, he felt around for his phone. He grasped it, feeling the cold metal backing and plastic buttons. He wondered why he carried it all around with him when no one called, no one messaged, no one e-mailed or asked for his number. He guessed it was all about the craze and fade about having one.

He smiled again as the rain never lightened up. Water soaked through his shoes and socks. He stopped at the middle of a simple stone bridge. The water rushed on below his feet, pullets of rain disturbing the surface. Each drop made water bounce up and fall down. Some reached to heights unimaginable, others barely made it up. He pulled the phone out. Turning it off, he glanced over the bridge wall and stared at his reflection. He dropped his phone directly on his face, ripples spreading. He couldn't tell if it was rain or tears that dripped from his cheeks. Pulling back, he turned around sank down to sit on the wet ground, not caring about getting his clothes wet. The umbrella fell to his side as he pulled his knees to his chin. Everything was blurry and muddy.

Rennblautur
Allur rennvotur

The rain cleansed his body, soaking him to a wet mess. Tears blurred his vision, and he could see nothing. He pulled his hat off, throwing it to the side. He sobbed, hiccupped, cried. He was in a vulnerable state, a state where even innocence could not match. Emotions of everything and nothing came out of him. Every stressful moment, every tensioned time, every love, every hate, dreams, memories could not stop flowing from his eyes. His body ached, muscles sore.

"Kyle?"

He looked up, stopping nothing. Through unclear eyes, black hair came into view. The rain stopped suddenly, and he thought the weather was clear until he realized that the person held an umbrella over his head.

"Kyle, what are you doing out here?" The boy squatted down to eye-level. He slowly reached out and gently took hold of his friend's chin, lifting it up. "Why are you crying out here?" He stood and moved to sit down next to the red-headed boy. He, too, could care less of his clothes, though he held the umbrella tightly. He sighed as the two sat in silence, water soaking through their pants.

"Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

The questioned boy glanced to his side. Feeling a sense of loneliness and welcoming, he smiled lightly. "I just… wanted to be with you, though this isn't the ideal first date." He chuckled softly as the boy blushed and pouted.

Engin gúmmístígvél
Hlaupandi inni í okkur
Vill springa út úr skel

They sat there with their shoes completely drenched in water. They could feel it on their toes. They could care less about what made them uncomfortable. People always seemed to worry and complain about what they have. Never did they have respect from mothers who slave over a hot stove to provide food. Never did they thank a father for a roof over their head. No words said to a brother who would protect them with their lives. No words said to a sister who would defend them from the world. Everything – everyone – was taken by granted.

They continued to sit as children with rubber boots ran across the bridge in front of them, water kicking up as they laughed. They both moved their head to see the children playing tag in the cold. They ran and leaped towards one other, hands out to touch. Girls ran from boys and hoped not to catch cooties. Boys ran from icky girls. They hugged each other and spun around and jumped. It was a surreal thing to see. Innocent kids having fun, their bubbled worlds unharmed and weakened. Fun being made with no use of brought toys or useless gadgets, just hands and laughter combined into one.

It was like they burst out of their set shells and went out into the real world where dreams were not dreams but set promises. Nightmares, disagreement, religion, politics, none of those were real. No one was rejected. No one was no one. No one was ignored. No fighting happened. No arguments came up. Peace surrounded the world, wrapping it up tight and never letting go. Regrets disappeared, forgetfulness never existed, lies were unknown. It was the world, come alive and free.

Vindurinn
og útilykt af hárinu þínu

Wind calmly blew on the two bridge-sitters. The rain turned down, and sprinkles hit the ground lightly. They sat together, watching the kids play. They leaned into one other to get more warmth, but also to feel even safer. They smelled each other's hair, getting the smell of the outside in it. The umbrella over them was now on the ground next to the other one. Wind wiped them away as the couple sat still, thoughtless of everything going on.

They flew above the couple, rolling in the air like feather. As the wind let up, they tumbled to the ground and bounced as beach balls did. But they stayed together as if bounded by something more than just weather or fate or destiny. That didn't fuel them. What did was pure imagination. The pure thought of having a connection; a red thread twisted around their pinkies; an absolute promise that lasted not forever but for eternity. Time was there; it just never ended.

Ég anda eins fast og ég get
með nefinu mínu

The red head breathed in hard and stood up and out of his partner's hold. Giving a hand to the surprised boy, he lifted him up.

"Come on. This is our chance to be happy."

The boy smiled and taking hold of his lover's hand, they ran over to the playing children who welcomed them with laughter and smiles.

They jumped in puddles and kicked up tuffs of grass and mud. Unconcerned about their pants, thoughtless of being dirty, they played. After years of fake smiles, stressful work, and useless drama, the rain washed it away to fertilize the trees and flowers. Wet clothes meant nothing to them as they carried kids in the air and gently swung them around. They splashed water up when they hopped in puddles. They rolled around in the green grass and on top of each other, nothing but joy filled their eyes. Nothing could stop them from enjoying life as it should be enjoyed.

Hoppípolla
Í engum stígvélum
Allur rennvotur (Rennblautur)
Í engum stígvélum


Have fun?

Translation is here. I do not know Icelandic, so if you do, please feel free to school me. This is not to be taken word for word but is a sorta rough thing that Google helped me with.

Smiling
Spinning round and round
Holding hands
The whole world a blur
But you are standing

Soaked
Completely drenched
No rubber boots
Running inside us
Want to erupt from a shell

The Wind
An outdoor smell of your hair
I breathe as hard as I can
with my nose

Jump into puddles
With no boots on
completely drenched (Soaked)
With no boots on

There is more to the lyrics that I didn't feel fit the story which are the last couple of lines:

Og ég fæ blóðnasir
En ég stend alltaf upp

Og ég fæ blóðnasir
En ég stend alltaf upp

which translates to:

And I get a nosebleed
but I always stand up

And I get a nosebleed
but I always stand up