Efling Union extends its warmest wishes to all its members and the people of Iceland on our National Day, 17 June.
Efling would like to remind members working today that 17 June is a major public holiday and that wages for work performed today should include public holiday pay. We also encourage our Icelandic members to draw the attention of their foreign colleagues to this.
To mark the founding of the Republic of Iceland in 1944, a poetry competition was held in which two poems were awarded prizes. One was “Hver á sér fegra föðurland” by Hulda (Unnur Benediktsdóttir Bjarklind), and the other was “Íslendingaljóð 17. júní”, which has always been known by its opening words: “Land míns föður” (Land of My Father), written by Jóhannes úr Kötlum.
Jóhannes was from Dalir in the west of Iceland, born and raised in Laxárdalur. He was active in the Socialist Unity Party and served as a Member of Parliament for Reykjavík in 1941. At that time, he was also active in the Icelandic Anti-War Movement.
The poet Jón úr Vör said this about Jóhannes úr Kötlum in an interview in Birtingur magazine in 1957:
“He immediately took the lead as the poet of the working class, warm-hearted and full of compassion, a fierce fighter for justice. Whether in free verse or traditional form, he wrote to suit the struggles of the times. I will never forget his poetry from the Depression years. Since then, I have held Jóhannes úr Kötlum dearest of all poets.”
It is therefore fitting, on this National Day—81 years after the founding of the republic—to share his poem Land of My Father:
Land of My Father
by Jóhannes úr Kötlum (1899–1972)
Land of my father, land so dear,
washed by blue streams gleaming,
eternal wakes thy face so clear,
above time’s noisy dreaming.
This face we love with all our heart,
our lives here but a humble part,
a fragment of thy rocky art,
a glint of all thy dreaming.
Whether crowned with thorns or bloom,
this nation’s path we’re choosing,
its sagas and songs we groom,
no matter what we’re losing.
A harp of fire and icy blast,
with chords of time both deep and vast,
may she play, young and free to the last,
under northern lights so soothing.