Hans Christian Andersen: 'Trøst i Tro' (1867)

 

Trøst i Tro

 

Skal vi ej mere synge igjen:

’Danmark dejligst Vang og Vænge!’

Hjertet Bløder, synge vi den;

Vinterens Storm har jaget den hen. –

Kommer der ikke en eneste Ven?

Ham har vi ventet saalænge.

 

Sommeren blæser sin milde Bør,

Hvidtjørnen blomstrer og Gjøgen kukker,

Alt er saa smilende frisk som før,

Fuglene kvidre i vante Humør,

Hver en Blomst har sin gode Kulør,

Kun Menneskets Hjerte sukker.

 

Ikke det hjælper, græd selv Du Blod,

Jamre og klage ikke Dig baader,

Det som skal ske, fra Evighed stod

Skrevet hos ham, som er alvis og god,

Han som aldrig sin Skabning forlod,

Kongernes Konge, som raader.

 

Aldrig Fortrøstningen helt vejrer hen,

Før brister Hjertet af Sorgen.

Altid Folketroen car den:

Danmark har i Vor Herre en Ven,

Holde vi fast, Han holder igjen,

Og Solen vil skinne i morgen!

 

 

Solace in Faith

 

And shall we nevermore sing again:

’Denmark, where fair meadows slumber!’

Has our heart bleeds fallen silent then;

Did the winter’s storms prove its amen? –

Just where is our long-awaited friend?

Once we had friends without number.

 

Summer’s mild breeze is around our door,

Hawthorns are in bloom, cuckoos calling 

All is so smilingly fresh once more

The birds now gaily chirrup and caw,

The flowers form a dazzling bright decor,

It’s only our hearts that are palling.

 

It would not help you e’en to shed blood,

Not avail to be groaning and wailing,

That which shall be, has always stood

Ordained by Him who is all-wise and good

Who o’er His Creation has Fatherhood,

King of all Kings never-failing.

 

Our trust and hope will ne’er come to an end,

Our hearts would ere that break from sorrow.

The common belief has always been:

In Our Lord has Denmark a faithful friend,

If we keep the faith, he us will defend – 

And the sun will return on the morrow!

After the traumatic war with Prussia in 1864, Denmark lost about 40% of its territory. This led the nation to seek to compensate mentally: 'What is outwardly lost must be inwardly gained' became the motto.  In this poem, Andersen quotes the first line of a poem which he wrote back in 1848, when Danish forces were much more successful. To see this poem in translation, go to here.

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Jeg saae det Land, hvis Luft har himmmelsk Lyst' (1834)

 

Jeg saae det Land, hvis Luft har himmelsk Lyst

1834

 

Jeg saae det Land, hvis Luft har himmelsk Lyst,

Hvor under Pinjen Skjønheds Børn os møde,

Hvor Ilden sprudler frem af Bjergets Bryst,

Og Oldtids Byer opstaae fra de Døde.

 

Der klædt i Marmor høje Guder staae,

Der Duft og Toner i hver Luftning vifte,

Mens Havet er en Olie, azurblaa,

Og Bjergene med syvfold Farver skifte.

 

Der Alt er Malerie ved Malerie,

Der klart Guds Skaber-Kjærlighed man skuer, - 

See Bondens Gjærde; Laurbær groer deri,

Den høie Cactus, Ranken tung med Druer!

 

Der blev mit Hjerte Barn, men Tanken Mand,

Der lærte jeg Natur og Kunst at kjende.

Du Farvernes og Formens skjønne Land,

Farvel! - min smukke Drøm er nu tilende.

 

 

I saw the land whose air’s a joy divine

1834

 

I saw the land whose air’s a joy divine

Where beneath pine trees beauty’s children tread,

Where fire erupts from the volcano’s mine,

And ancient cities rise up from the dead.

 

Where, marble-clad, high gods stand in full view,

Where scent and sounds are caught upon the breeze,

And where the sea’s like oil, deep azure blue,

And mountains’ colours are a shifting frieze.

 

And masterpieces everywhere abound

Where God’s creative love none could refute‚

In farmers’ hedges, laurels can be found,

Tall cactuses and vines bent low with fruit!

 

My heart became a child, my mind a man,

I grew so close to Nature and to Art,

You land of forms’ and colours’ wondrous span,

Farewell! The fair dream’s over . I must part.

 

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Snorlige Gader, Palai ved Palai' (1831)

Centre of Berlin in 1831 map

 

Snorlige Gader, Palai ved Palai

1831

 

Snorlige Gader, Palai ved Palai,

Man bliver træt af at gaae og at see.

Pæne Soldater, – den første jeg saae,

Følte jeg gjennem mit Hjerte gaae,

Og jeg brød ud: ”Hvilken Krop! Hvilke Been!

Gud, hvor det dog er en nydelig En!”

”Unter den Linden ” Alverden gik.

(Det er dog smukkest i Kobberstik!)

Gaderne støve og Ungdommen med,

Ak, det gjør Øinene stor Fortræd!

Ægte Berliner Witz finder man her,

Og den er kostbar - tro mig - især

Hvis den med ”Schnellposten” skulde herfra,

Blev den for dyr ved sin Tyngde, ak ja!

”R” bliver snurret, man siger ”mein Jot”

Ellers er Folket meget godt;

Byen – ja vendt paa kryds eller tvers,

Bliver for stor til at sætte i Vers.

 

 

Moral

 

Mærk Dig: Moralen er saare fiin,

Som man faaer ud af det store Berliin!

 

 

Arrow-straight streets and fine mansions galore

1831

 

Arrow-straight streets and fine mansions galore,

Walking and gazing makes one tired and sore.

Handsome young soldiers – the first one I saw

I felt pierce my poor heart right to the core,

I exclaimed: ‘What a body! What fine legs!’

Dear God, that one leaves me quite perplexed!’

‘Unter den Linden’ all come and go.

(Though as an etching it’s finest, I know.)

The streets are all dusty, and young folk are too,

Oh, it is hard on one’s eyes, so vast a view!

Berlin-style humour is everywhere here,

And it is not cheap – believe me – quite dear

If it by ‘Schnellpost’ were meant to be sent

Its weight would cost you your very last cent.

They roll all their Rs and exclaim ‘mein Jot’

Apart from this though they seem a fine lot;

The city – if taken from A to Z –

Won’t fit my verse – there’s no more to be said.

 

 

Moral

 

Take note: The moral seems very clear,

To describe Berlin you must stand right here!

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Smaabørn, kjør kun rask afsted!'

Denmark, 1937

Smaabørn, kjør kun rask af sted

 

Smaabørn, kjør kun rask afsted!

See, qvivit! vi komme med.

Det er Fastelavn i Dag,

Vi skal til et lystigt Lag;

Katten, som vil faae os fat,

Har de nu i Tønden sat.

Fare! Fare! Krigsmand!

Døden skal han lide,

Han kom dog til allersidst

I den sorte Gryde.

 

 

Quickly children, off you go!

 

Quickly children, off you go!

Whoosh, we’re with you, we’re not slow.

Lent is here again today,

Time for fun and time for play;

And the cat that chased us so

In the barrel has been stowed.

Danger, danger! Soldier!

Death comes when you’ve fallen,

You shall end up last of all

In the coal-black cauldron

 

 

For the ‘cat in the barrel’ game, see here.

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Den Frivillige' (1848)

 

Den Frivillige

 

Mel. Saa kjæmped de Helte.

 

Jeg kan ikke blive, jeg har ingen Ro,

Jeg maa med de andre til Leiren!

Vor Sag er retfærdig, og Gud tør vi troe

:/: Er med os, han giver os Seiren. :/:

 

Aarhundreder Danmark var mægtigt og stort,

Men saa blev der plukket og plukket.

Nu skal de ei gjøre, hvad før de har gjort,

:/: For længe har Danmark nu sukket. :/:

 

De kan overvælde vort lille Land,

Men rokke ei Mod eller Villie.

Thi nu slaae vi alle til yderste Mand,

:/: Vort Skjold er saa reent som en Lilie. :/:

 

Jeg føler mig stærk, og jeg kan holde ud!

Tak Moder, Du vil, jeg maa stride.

Med mig er din Tanke og med mig er Gud,

:/: Hvad troer du din Søn da kan lide. :/:

 

Farvel Allesammen! Jeg har ingen Ro,

Jeg maa med de Andre til Leiren.

Vor Sag er retfærdig, og Gud tør vi troe

:/: Er med os, han giver os Seiren. :/:

 

 

The Volunteer

 

Mel. Thus fought the heroes.

 

I cannot remain here, to set out I must

And join up with those in the army !

Our cause it is just, in God do we trust,

:/: Our victory’s sure, nought can harm me. :/:

 

For hundreds of years, our Denmark was great,

Since then though by foes it’s been plundered.

They shall not repeat what they’ve done to date,

:/: Too long it for glory has hungered :/:

 

And should they take now what’s left of our land,

Our courage and will shall shall not waver.

This time we shall fight to the very last man,

:/: Our shield and our sword they shall savour. :/:

 

I feel I am strong, that I shall not yield!

Am glad Mother Denmark accepts me.

With you in my thoughts and God as my shield,

:/: I have all I need to protect me. :/:

 

Farewell to you all! To set out I must

And join up with those in the army !

Our cause it is just, in God do we trust,

:/: Our victory’s sure, nought can harm me. :/:

 

 

Andersen responded almost immediately to the outbreak of hostilities with this song. It first appeared in ‘Fædrelandet’ on 21 April 1848. It became quite popular, but was overshadowed by ‘In Denmark I was born’, which has almost become a second national anthem. This song was written at a pivotal time in Denmark’s history, but does not have much literary value.

Hans Christian Andersen: 'I det brændende Skib, paa det rullende Hav'

 

Steamship 'Austria' in 1857

I det brændende Skib, paa det rullende Hav

 

† Henriette Wulff

(Paa Dampskibet „Austria”, den 13de Septbr. 1858)

 

I det brændende Skib, paa det rullende Hav,

I Rædsler, som ei vi udholde at høre,

Har du lidt, har du endt, har Du fundet din Grav,

Dødsmaaden og Kampen naae aldrig vort Øre!

 

Du dristige, kraftfulde Sjæl, Du dig holdt

I et skrøbeligt Legem; høit stod Du i Vrimlen,

Og aldrig dit ildfulde Hjerte blev koldt;

Her Faa kun forstod Dig, men Flere i Himlen!

 

Du var mig en Søster deeltagende stærk,

Min Sjæl holdt Du oppe, naar Verden mig traadte,

Du kjendte, forstod mig, og det er dit Værk,

At tit jeg ei sank, naar synke jeg maatte.

 

Det falske, det Tomme, det Bjældeklangs Smaa

Har Hobens Beskyttelse, bæres af Strømmen,

Dens Løb ei forandres —, Skumbølgerne gaae,

Og Jordlivet gaaer,- det er endt snart, som Drømmen.

 

Farvel min Veninde fra Barndommens Aar!

Du var mig meer god, end jeg det fortjente,

Nu har du stridt ud – ; hos en Broder Du staaer,

Med hvem alt paa Jorden Dig Længsel foreente.

 

Din Kiste blev Havet, det rullende Hav,

Og Indskriften over Dig staaer i vort Hjerte,

Din Sjæl er i Himlen, der Herren Dig gav

Lyksalighed tifold for Dødsstundens Smerte.

 

I det brændende Skib paa det rullende Hav,

I Rædsler, som ei vi udholde at høre,

Har Du lidt, har Du endt, har Du fundet din Grav,

Dødsmaaden og Kampen naae aldrig vort Øre

 

 

(To understand verse 5, it is important to know that Henriette’s brother, Christian Wulff, died of yellow fever in 1856, while stationed in Beaufort, North Carolina.)

 

 

 

On the ship all ablaze, on the deep, rolling sea

 

† Henriette Wulff

(On the steamship ‘Austria’, 13 Sept. 1858)

 

On the ship all ablaze, on the deep, rolling sea,

In horrors our ears simply could not endure,

You have suffered and died, there your grave came to be,

Though the way that you perished will never be sure.

 

In a frail human frame did your bold, daring soul

Have to dwell; in a crowd though was well to the fore,

And your spirited heart never came to turn cold;

Here few understood you, but in heaven far more!

 

A sister were you to me, caring by nature,

My soul you sustained when the world was against me,

You knew my true being and never did waver

To keep me from sinking, when none would befriend me.

 

The false and the empty, the tinkling of brass

Gains most folk’s protection, is borne by the stream,

Its course does not alter – the foam-topped waves pass

And earthly life too – it soon ends, like a dream.

 

Farewell, dearest friend since my childhood’s first years!

Your kindness to me was sustained and exceeding,

You’ve taken your leave  –; and a brother stands near

With whom all on earth made you long for remeeting.

 

The waves are your coffin, the deep, rolling sea

The written inscription’s engraved in our heart,

Your soul is in heaven , where God’s bliss shall be

Tenfold for your anguish at having to part.

 

On the ship all ablaze, on the deep, rolling sea,

In horrors our ears simply could not endure,

You have suffered and died, there your grave came to be,

Though the way that you perished will never be sure.

 

 

DOs and DON'Ts

 

DON’Ts

 

1.     Rhyme can make a text feel like a poem, but it does not make it a poem.

(The same applies to alliteration.)

2.     Counting syllables may create equality, but it does not create a pulse.

3.     A pacemaker creates an illusion of pulse, but does not make a poem breathe.

4.     Overattention to form in a text creates scaffolding, but blocks the view of the house.

5.     Misusing space on the page is dressing mutton as lamb.

6.     Repetition without modulation or modification creates monotony.

7.     Overuse or misuse of imagery smothers and blurs the image.

8.     Misuse of content ends up as philosophy, misuse of sound ends up as babble, misuse of space can leave you with an almost empty plate.

9.     Unless you dig deeper than the personal, you cannot say anything that will have universal validity.

10. Do not mistake rules for technique.

 

DO’s

 

1.     Read Goethe’s poem: ‘Natur und Kunst’ 

2.     Read e.c. cummings’ poems: ‘Yes is a pleasant country’, ‘O by the by’

(And listen to him read them on Spotify)