The close things

I think I have found out why the poem in the last post hit so close to home, despite the fact that I have never seen it before my better half pointed it out to me. It is, in fact, because the essence of it neatly echoes a poem I grew up with:

De Nære Ting

Ditt sinn monne flyve så vide omkring,
det er som du glemmer de nære ting,
det er som du aldri en time har fred,
du lengter bestandig et annet sted.

Du syns dine dager er usle og grå,
hva er det du søker, hva venter du på?
Når aldri du unner deg rast eller ro,
kan ingen ting vokse og intet gro.

Gå inn i din stue, hvor liten den er,
så rommer den noe ditt hjerte har kjær.
På ropet i skogen skal ingen få svar,
finn veien tilbake til det du har.

Den lykken du søker bak blående fjell,
kan hende du alltid har eiet den selv.
Du skal ikke jage i hvileløs ring,
men lær deg å elske de nære ting

Arne Paasce Aasen

And in my attemt at translatation, aided by Google:

The Close Things
Your mind was set to fly wide and far, 
it is like you forget the close things, 
it is like you never have one hour of peace, 
you long always to be somewhere else.

You think your days are grim and gray, 
what are you looking for, what are you waiting for? 
When not treating yourself to rest or peace, 
nothing can take root and nothing grow.

Go into your home, however small 
it holds something your heart holds dear.
 The shout in the forest will not get an answer,
 find your way back to what you have.

The happiness you are seeking behind distant mountains, 
You may have always owned it yourself. 
You should not chase restless around 
but learn to love the close things.