Soldaten
Med dæmpede Hvirvler Trommerne gaae,
— Ak, skal vi dog aldrig til Stedet naae,
At han kan faae Ro i sin Kiste?
— Jeg tror mit Hjerte vil briste!
Jeg havde i Verden en eneste Ven,
Ham er det, man bringer til Døden hen
Med klingende Spil gjennem Gaden,
Og jeg er med i Paraden!
For sidste Gang skuer han nu Guds Sol,
Nu sidder han alt paa Dødens Stol;
De binde ham fast til Pælen.
— Forbarm dig, Gud, over Sjælen!
Paa eengang sigte de alle Ni.
De Otte skyde jo reent forbi;
De rysted´ paa Haanden af Smerte,
— Kun jeg traf ham midt i hans Hjerte!
The Soldier
With deep muffled rolls the drums resound
– Ah, will we ne’er reach the appointed ground,
So he in his coffin may rest now?
– I feel that my heart’s sore oppressed now!
I had in the world but this single friend,
And it is his death with which this will end
Loud music reveals the progression,
And I’m part of this procession!
For the last time of God’s sun he’s aware,
Already he’s sitting on death’s dread chair;
To the post they now firmly bind him.
–On his soul may God’s mercy find him!
At one same second all nine take aim.
Eight miss completely – what is to blame?
Hands shook from the pain that this gave them,
– I only his heart pierced to save him.
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