Nedervetil 1991

https://arenan.yle.fi/1-50241784

Four weeks…
Every Saturday…

Cold April wind on thawing ground,
Twenty tractors rumbling round,
Four, five trucks with branches high,
Rolling under the Österbotten sky.

Four long Saturdays they came,
Same old road, that muddy lane,
Laughing, working through the day,
“Stack it higher — don’t delay.”

Ole laughing through the chill,
Krister calm and iron-willed,
“When we start in Nedervetil,
We aim for more — we always will.”

Nedervetil’s bonfire burning bright,
Nineteen ninety-one in firelight,
Twenty-seven meters, maybe more —
Sixty ’round, at least they swore.

Coats pulled tight, we felt the heat,
Frozen ground beneath our feet.
We formed a ring in orange light,
Held by flame against the night.

Coffee steaming, gloves on hands,
Neighbors hauling through the lands,
Side by side with steady might,
Village pride our guiding light.

When the spark was finally laid,
No loud cry and no parade,
Just a hush — then came the roar,
Like the sky itself had torn.

Flames climbed higher, hour by hour,
Rolling waves of orange power,
That Easter troll perched on high
Seemed so tiny in the sky.

At the base a cabin stood,
Two hundred years of seasoned wood,
Gifted, dry as desert bone,
Set to make the flame its throne.

Nedervetil’s bonfire burning bright,
Nineteen ninety-one in firelight,
Twenty-seven meters, maybe more —
Sixty ’round, at least they swore.

Coats pulled tight, we felt the heat,
Frozen ground beneath our feet,
We formed a ring in orange light,
Held by flame against the night.

Some years they build with careful hands,
Oh, they try to beat old plans,
Dreams of records, Guiness fame,
Measured stacks, but none the same.

Strong they burn against the night,
Still they fade beside that light —
There’s only one we still recall:
(Whispered) Nedervetil 91.

Because legends live in flame,
In smoke that writes a village name,
In frozen hands and muddy land,
In twenty tractors working grand.

Ohhh — it would not fade…
Ohhh — a legend we made…

Nedervetil’s bonfire burning bright,
Nineteen ninety-one in firelight,
Twenty-seven meters, maybe more —
Sixty ’round, at least they swore.

Three whole days it would not die,
Glowing red against the sky,
Till the brigade at last came in
To calm the fire that would not dim.

We formed a ring in orange light,
Held by flame against the night.
The fire no heart could outrun —
Back in nineteen ninety-one!

Embers whisper through the night,
Smoke curls high in fading light,
Legends rise where logs once lay —
Nedervetil 91, they say.

Видео Nedervetil 1991 канала CatatafishFU