Ingenting og Noget
Hør nu en Sang om Ingenting!
Ja, Ingenting er Skroget;
Men, pyntet lidt med Klang og Kling,
Den bliver mueligt Noget.
Før Chaos var der Ingenting;
Nu blev af Intet Noget.
Herr Adam løb blandt Fæ omkring;
Jeg ynker salig Fjoget.
Han manglede just Ingenting;
Dog savnede han Noget.
Træt sov han i sin Kasseking,
Og drømte der heelt broget.
Og Ein, Zwey, Drey, nu i et Spring
Fløi af et Ribben kroget
En sær forunderlig Smaa-Ting,
Der dog saae ud som Noget.
Men, ak! min Sang faaer jo et Sving,
Som var der Lidt paa Skroget;
Jeg lovede jo Ingenting.
Og her — — ja, fik I Noget?
Nothing and something
Just listen to my nothing song!
Yes, it’s bare bones are nothing
But, when adorned with pling and plong,
It could quite well prove something.
Well, nothing was ere chaos came
But out of this came something.
And Adam mixed with beasts quite tame;
I pity the poor bumpkin.
And nothing was there that he lacked
And yet he did lack something.
Tired out, his nightshirt he unpacked,
Ere to weird dreams succumbing.
And ein-zwei-drei, he felt a pling
As if one rib was strumming,
And out then flew a strange curved thing
That had to be a something.
Alas! my song’s begun to swing,
As if its bones were bumping;
I didn’t promise anything.
And now –– did you get something?
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