HEMISPHÆRERNE
Den Himmel, jeg har henrykt kaaret,
Som Jordens er i Kugler skaaret;
Men de er blændende, ei blaa,
Kun med en svag, en blaalig Aare paa.
De har ei Sol, men vel en Kreds af Rødme,
Der straaler Liv og sprudler Sødme.
Dem ingen Astronom betragter nøie,
Men vel min Drengs det brune Øie.
De dækkes stundom af en Sky,
Snart heelt, snart halvt – men den maa fly.
For Storme har de intet Rum,
Skjøndt bølgende som Havets Skum;
Lynglimt man øiner ikke der -
Kun af mit Kys et Rosenskjær.
Ei Stjerner har de for en natlig Vanker,
Men vel et Hjerte indenfor, som banker,
Og som, naar Alt er Mulm, veileder
Den tro og elskende Tilbeder.
THE HEMISPHERES
The heavens of my choice impassioned
Like those of earth as spheres are fashioned;
These orbs are dazzling though, not blue –
Pure white but for a vein of azure hue.
They have no sun, although a blushing circle
Sends rays of life, sweets universal.
Astronomers have never scrutinized them,
Whereas my lad’s brown eyes have sized them.
If partly, wholly hid from view
By cloud, it soon must flee anew.
For raging storms they have no home,
Though heaving as the wave-tossed foam;
No lightning flash they ever show –
Just from my kiss a rose-tinged glow.
No stars have they for any nighttime rover,
But, deep within, a guiding heart they cover
Which is, in dead of night, the haven
By this true lover dearly craven.
For the original manuscript, go to here
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