Hans Adolph Brorson: 'Her vil ties, her vil bies'

 Her vil ties, her vil bies

 

Her vil ties, her vil bies,
Her vil bies, o svage Sind!
Vist skal du hente, kun ved at vente,
Kun ved at vente, vor Sommer ind.
Her vil ties, her vil bies,
Her vil bies, o svage Sind!

 

Trange tider langsomt skrider,
Langsomt skrider. Det har den Art.
Dagene længes, Vinteren strænges,
Vinteren strænges. Og det er svart.
Trange tider langsomt skrider,
Langsomt skrider. Det har den art.

 

Turtel-Due, kom at skue,
Kom at skue! Bag Gierdet hist,
Der skal du finde Forsommers Minde,
Forsommers Minde, alt grøn på Qvist.
Turtel-Due, kom at skue,
Kom at skue! Bag Gierdet hist.

 

Eja! søde Førstegrøde,
Førstegrøde af bliden Vaar.
Lad det nu fryse, lad mig nu gyse,
Lad mig nu gyse. Det snart forgaaer.
Eja! søde Førstegrøde,
Førstegrøde af bliden Vaar.

 

Due, kunde du begrunde,
Du begrunde, hvad der nu skeer.
Kulden den svækkes, Blomsterne dækkes,
Blomsterne dækkes, jo meer det sneer.
Due, kunne du begrunde,
Du begrunde, hvad der nu skeer.

 

Kom, min Due, lad dig skue,
Lad dig skue med Olie-Blad!
See! nu er Stunden næsten oprunden,
Næsten oprunden, som giør dig glad.
Kom, min Due, lad dig skue,
Lad dig skue med Olie-Blad!

 

 

 

Time to ponder, not to wander

 

Time to ponder, not to wander,

Not to wander, oh weakling mind!

You’ll not by prating, only by waiting,

Only by waiting, our summer find.

Time to ponder, not to wander,

Not to wander, oh weakling mind!

 

Hard times trudge now, scarcely budge now,

Scarcely budge now. Their nature’s so.

Each day grows longer, winter though stronger,

Winter though stronger. This well we know.

Hard times trudge now, scarcely budge now,

Scarcely budge now. Their nature’s so.

 

Turtle dove, come look, my loved one,

Look my loved one! Behind yon wall

You’ll like a gem see foresummer’s memory,

Foresummer’s memory, light leaf-green all.

Turtle dove, come look, my loved one,

Look my loved one! Behind yon wall.

 

Ah, how comely, first fruits lovely,

First fruits lovely of gentle spring!

Let sharp frosts rake me, let quivers shake me,

Let quivers shake me. How brief their sting!

Ah, how comely, first fruits lovely,

First fruits lovely of gentle spring!

 

Dove, what reason has this season,

Has this season – there’s no one knows!

Cold’s losing power, covered’s each flower,

Covered’s each flower the more it snows.

Dove, what reason has this season,

Has this season – there’s no one knows!

 

Turtle dove, come forth, my loved one,

Forth my loved one, with olive leaf!

See! with each hour rises a bower 

Rises a bower that brings relief.

Turtle dove, come forth, my loved one,

Forth my loved one, with olive leaf!