Det fryser ved Octobers klare Maane
Det fryser ved Octobers klare Maane;
Den kjælne Sommerflor i Haven døde,
Selv Georginerne, de stærkest røde,
For Natteblæstens vilde Favntag daane.
Om Himlen Skyerne bestandig graane;
Sangfuglen tier, Skovens Green er øde,
Snart frosne Bølger imod Stranden støde,
Kun Uglers hæse Skrig Naturen haane.
Farvel, maa siges nu til alt det Lyse,
Det Faure, Muntre — Alt, som ei vil fryse,
Og i den barske Vinterkulde stønne —
Farvel! Farvel! Hvem undres, at det Skjønne
Nu, da det bliver iiskold Nat ved Polen,
Som Heliotropen vender sig mod Solen.
In clear October moonlight all lies freezing
In clear October moonlight all lies freezing;
The closely tended summer flowers hang wilted,
And e’en the dahlias, those reddest quilted,
In night-wind’s wild embrace swoon without ceasing.
The clouds, forever grey, the skies are plying;
Each song bird’s silent, forest branch deserted,
To ice the breaking waves are soon converted,
And but the owl’s hoarse call mocks nature’s dying.
Farewell must now be bid all she’s once chosen,
The lovely, bright and gay — that neither frozen
Nor moaning in harsh winter would expire —
Farewell! Farewell! No wonder the desire
Of beauteous things, in ice-cold polar nighttime,
Is like the heliotrope to turn to sunshine.
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