Lars våknet en morgen i Bergen, en vakker by som ofte var dekket av regn.

Lars woke up one morning in Bergen, a beautiful city that was often covered in rain.

Det regnet den dagen også.

It was raining that day too.

Men noe var annerledes.

But something was different.

Det blåste en kraftig vind.

There was a strong wind blowing.

Vinden svinger og suser mellom fjellene og kaster seg ned i de trange gatene.

The wind swirled and whistled between the mountains and swept down into the narrow streets.

Lars visste at han måtte ut.

Lars knew he had to go out.

Han måtte til jobben.

He had to go to work.

Lars, en høy, kjekk mann med krøllete hår, var kjent for sin gigantiske paraply.

Lars, a tall, handsome man with curly hair, was known for his giant umbrella.

En paraply så stor at den kunne skjerme tre personer fra regnet.

An umbrella so big that it could shelter three people from the rain.

Han tok den med og gikk ut av døren.

He brought it with him and stepped out of the door.

Bergen var en labyrint av trange gater og bratte veier, men det var hans hjem, og han elsket det.

Bergen was a labyrinth of narrow streets and steep roads, but it was his home, and he loved it.

Vinden var sterk.

The wind was strong.

Som en sint gammel mann som prøvde å rive av ham paraplyen.

Like an angry old man trying to tear his umbrella away.

Lars holdt fast.

Lars held on.

Kroppen hans vridde og snudde seg i vinden, men han holdt paraplyen støtt på plass.

His body twisted and turned in the wind, but he held the umbrella firmly in place.

Føttene hans var som røtter i bakken, nektet å gi etter for vinden.

His feet were like roots in the ground, refusing to yield to the wind.

Gaten Lars gikk på var utrolig bratt.

The street Lars walked on was incredibly steep.

Det var som å klatre opp fjellet, bare med brosteinsbelagte gater under føttene.

It was like climbing a mountain, only with cobblestone streets beneath his feet.

Hver skritt en kamp, hver pust en utfordring.

Each step was a battle, each breath a challenge.

Men Lars var en fighter.

But Lars was a fighter.

Han var en bergenser.

He was a "Bergenser."

Vinden kunne være sterk, men han var sterkere.

The wind could be strong, but he was stronger.

Tross de trange gatene og vinden, fortsatte han å navigere.

Despite the narrow streets and the wind, he continued to navigate.

Noen ganger snudde vinden ham rundt, men han rettet seg alltid opp igjen.

Sometimes the wind turned him around, but he always straightened himself up again.

Og alltid med et smil.

And always with a smile.

Lars visste at han måtte nå jobben.

Lars knew he had to reach his job.

Han visste at hver dag er viktig.

He knew that every day was important.

Og han visste at i Bergen må man være sterk.

And he knew that in Bergen, one must be strong.

Til slutt nådde Lars jobben sin.

Finally, Lars reached his job.

En liten butikk ved enden av gaten.

A small shop at the end of the street.

Han var våt, han var sliten, men han var lykkelig.

He was wet, he was tired, but he was happy.

Han hadde kjempet mot vinden og vunnet.

He had fought against the wind and won.

Og han hadde gjort det med sin gigantiske paraply, sitt skjold mot regnet.

And he had done it with his giant umbrella, his shield against the rain.

Når Lars gikk inn i butikken, kom et varmt lys mot ham, og et varmt smil fra hans kollega.

As Lars entered the shop, a warm light greeted him, along with a warm smile from his colleague.

Hun la merke til hans slitte utseende og det brede smilet på hans ansikt.

She noticed his worn-out appearance and the wide smile on his face.

Hun spurte, "Hvordan kom du deg hit i denne vinden, Lars?

She asked, "How did you make it here in this wind, Lars?"

"Og Lars, fremdeles smilende, svarte: "Det er det som gjør oss til bergensere.

And Lars, still smiling, replied, "That's what makes us 'Bergensers.'

Vi gir ikke opp.

We don't give up.

Ikke for vinden, ikke for regnet.

Not to the wind, not to the rain."

"Dagen fortsatte i butikken.

The day continued in the shop.

Lars gikk hjem den kvelden, igjen i den kraftige vinden, igjen med sin gigantiske paraply.

Lars went home that evening, again in the strong wind, again with his giant umbrella.

Men han visste at han hadde vunnet.

But he knew he had won.

Og han visste at han alltid ville vinne.

And he knew he would always win.

Fordi han var Lars, den kjekke, høyreiste mannen fra Bergen, sterkere enn vinden.

Because he was Lars, the handsome, tall man from Bergen, stronger than the wind.