Friday 24 August 2012

Song in Norwegian dialect by the Norwegian writer Alf Prøysen

 
t’Grindstone waltz

With fresh ruddy cheeks all flowers they do sway
t’Meadow stands summer-clad
t’Fern she be flexing, ‘t wild rose be stretching
t’Bridal-veil forms a thick plaid
All breathes of evenin’, of peace, calm and space
no flower be aware yet of what will take place

But t’grindstone waltz plays more and more
and now it be me who t’wheelcrank shall draw
t’Grindstone waltz plays more and more
for t’flowers in the meadow I ken what’s in store:
When t’scythe be keen and when t’whetstone’s around
on t’morrow they’ll come and mow straws to the ground
and in evenin’s peace they’ll hear nowt but one sound
Nowt but t’grindstone waltz that plays more
and more and more...

I once were a flower, ruddy cheeked and full glad
And t’meadow stood summer-clad
t’Fern she were flexing, ‘t wild rose were stretching
t’Bridal-veil formed a thick plaid
But flowers and young lasses they blossom reet wild
and dream of fine weddin’s and all that be mild.

But t’grindstone waltz plays more and more
and now it be me who t’wheelcrank shall draw
t’Grindstone waltz plays more and more
for t’flowers and young lasses I ken what’s in store:
When t’scythe be keen and when t’whetstone’s around
on t’morrow they’ll come and mow straws to the ground
and in evenin’s peace they’ll hear nowt but one sound
Nowt but t’grindstone waltz that plays more
and more and more...

To see the original text, go to here

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