Monday 31 July 2017
Sunday 30 July 2017
Friday 28 July 2017
Wednesday 26 July 2017
Sunday 23 July 2017
Friday 14 July 2017
Wednesday 12 July 2017
Niels Ferlin: 'Får jag lämna några blommor?'
May I leave some flowers when parting
May I leave
some flowers when parting – a few roses for your care,
and you
must ward off all sadness, my dear one.
For a royal
estate is where they have bloomed once, and I swear
it would take
a sword for one to get near one.
The first
one, it is white
and the
second, it is red,
but the
third I would bestow my heart's nearest.
It will not
bloom until
he who
gives it is no more –
it is
strange indeed that rose is, my dearest.
--------------
The first
one, it is white
and the
second, it is red,
but the
third I would bestow my heart's nearest.
It will not
bloom until
he who
gives it is no more –
but will bloom then quite a long time, my dearest.
but will bloom then quite a long time, my dearest.
Listen to Sven-Bertil Taube sing it on Spotify!
Saturday 8 July 2017
Only Afrikaans can come up with a word like 'skoelapper' for butterfly
WILMA STOCKENSTRÖM
Skeppend
Eendag toe hou die skepper
sy skepping soos 'n kind 'n skoelapper
op sy hand, en bibberend
spalt die gebrandskilderde vlerke.
Magtig die kleure wat gloei soos godhede
gloei, oop, toe, met groot
vertoon, die vlerke vir dag en nag.
Die skepper voel nog die pootjies
fyntjies op sy vingers en wonder
oor wat hy vermag het: oopvou
van 'n al, goudstofoortrekte lig,
en soos skeppendes maar is, bedink
hy, trots en nederig, nog ene,
nog 'n lieflike ligsinnige vlinder,
herhaaldelik, die ewigheid ter wille.
sy skepping soos 'n kind 'n skoelapper
op sy hand, en bibberend
spalt die gebrandskilderde vlerke.
Magtig die kleure wat gloei soos godhede
gloei, oop, toe, met groot
vertoon, die vlerke vir dag en nag.
Die skepper voel nog die pootjies
fyntjies op sy vingers en wonder
oor wat hy vermag het: oopvou
van 'n al, goudstofoortrekte lig,
en soos skeppendes maar is, bedink
hy, trots en nederig, nog ene,
nog 'n lieflike ligsinnige vlinder,
herhaaldelik, die ewigheid ter wille.
Creating
One day the creator held
his creation like a child a butterfly
in his hand, and quivering
the enamelled wings parted.
Wondrous the colours that glowed as deities
glowed, open, shut, with great
display, the wings for day and night.
The creator still feels the small feet
delicately on his fingers and is astonished
at what he has been capable of: the unfolding
of an everything, gold-dust-covered light,
and as it is with creators, he
conceives, proud and humble, one more
one more such lovely, light-hearted butterfly,
repeatedly, for the sake of eternity.
Thursday 6 July 2017
Tuesday 4 July 2017
Grundtvig - Land of the Living
The land of the
living
I
know of a land
Where hair does not grey, and where time’s
rule is banned,
Where sun does not burn, and where wave does
not ring,
Where autumn embraces the blossoming spring,
Where morning and evening unceasingly dance
In
noon’s brightest glance.
Oh,
wonderful land,
Where glass does not run full of tear-drops
as sand,
Where nothing is wanting that’s worth holding
dear,
Where that does not lack which so pained us
back here!
With breast filled with longing we seek ever
more
Your
sweet-smiling shore.
Oh,
long-promised land!
We greet you in morning hour’s mirror-clear
strand,
When perfect your shadow the child may espy
And where woods are green dreams that there
you must lie,
Where too it can share with the rushes and
flowers
Its
smile and its hours.
Oh,
transient dream
Of island eternal in time’s rushing stream!
Of joy’s sacred temple in life’s vale of
tears,
Of life half-divine in this hall’s mortal
years!
The land of the living with you melts away
From
those made of clay.
Oh,
hope-dashing dream!
You glittering bubble on time’s rushing
stream!
In vain would the poet, with voice and with
pen,
From bright-gleaming shadows create you again;
Where shadow comes closest, the small will
all weep
Who
on it gaze deep.
Oh,
spell-binding dream
Of pearl that’s eternal in time’s rushing
stream!
You fool those poor persons who all seek in
vain
In image and art what the heart would retain,
And make them call lasting what just
disappears
Like
days, months and years.
Oh,
spirit of love!
Your hand let me kiss, reaching down from
above
From heaven’s fair skies to this earth’s
murky hold
And touching our eyes with its fingers of
gold,
So blue-tinged there climbs behind
surf-roaring strand
The
wonderful land!
Oh,
heavenly name,
Whose sacred embrace does our nature enflame,
So spirit can mingle with dust without grief
And bring back to life every dead withered
leaf!
Oh, deep in my clay let me fall on my knee
So
God may see me!
Oh,
faith beyond bliss,
Whose high-vaulted bridge spans the gaping
abyss
When drifting ice threatens in surf-roaring
strand
From poor mortal dwelling to far promised
land!
Come farther down to me, you high-honoured
guest!
That
pleases you best.
Oh,
hope fleet of wing!
Oh, brother reborn through divine
christening!
For all journeys made to the land o’er the
sea,
Good tidings and comfort you’ve lavished on
me,
May I ever thank you, so joy is in store
When
hope is no more!
Oh,
love perfect love!
Quiet source of fierce torrents that mightily
move!
He calls you his
father who ransoms our plight
Your spirit all soul’s vital force does
ignite;
Your kingdom is there where man death does
defy;
May
us it be nigh!
Our
father sublime!
You willingly reign in earth’s temple of
grime,
Who builds up the spirit in Jesu’s sweet
name,
In human embrace with an altar aflame,
With heaven-bright dwelling of faith dearly
won,
For
you and your son.
Oh,
Christian faith sweet!
You grant every heart what the world cannot
greet;
What barely we glimpse while our eye is still
blue,
Is living within us, we know this is true;
Both heaven and earth are my land, life
confides
Where
love e’er resides.
Monday 3 July 2017
Grundtvig - Enlightenment
Oplysning
Er lyset for de lærde blot
til ret og galt at stave?
Nej, himlen under flere godt,
og lys er himlens gave,
og solen står med bonden op,
slet ikke med de lærde,
oplyser bedst fra tå til top,
hvem der er mest på færde.
Er lyset i planeter kun,
som ej kan se og mæle?
Er ikke ordet i vor mund
et lys for alle sjæle!
Det giver os for ånder syn,
som solens skin for kroppe,
det slår i sjælen ned som lyn
fra skyerne hist oppe.
Er lys på visse vilkår blot
så halvvejs at ophøje?
Gør det ej alle vegne godt!
Er lys ej livets øje!
Skal for misbrugens skyld måske
på åndens himmelbue
vi heller mulm og mørke se
end solens blanke lue!
Nej, aldrig spørges det fra Nord,
vi lyset vil fordunkle!
Som nordlys i fribårne ord
det sås på himlen funkle,
og ses det skal ved nordens pol,
ej blot i kroppens rige:
midsommerens den bolde sol
vil ej for midnat vige!
Oplysning være skal vor lyst,
er det så kun om sivet,
men først og sidst med folkerøst
oplysningen om livet;
den springer ud af folkedåd
og vokser, som den vugges,
den stråle i vort folkeråd,
til aftenstjernen slukkes!
til ret og galt at stave?
Nej, himlen under flere godt,
og lys er himlens gave,
og solen står med bonden op,
slet ikke med de lærde,
oplyser bedst fra tå til top,
hvem der er mest på færde.
Er lyset i planeter kun,
som ej kan se og mæle?
Er ikke ordet i vor mund
et lys for alle sjæle!
Det giver os for ånder syn,
som solens skin for kroppe,
det slår i sjælen ned som lyn
fra skyerne hist oppe.
Er lys på visse vilkår blot
så halvvejs at ophøje?
Gør det ej alle vegne godt!
Er lys ej livets øje!
Skal for misbrugens skyld måske
på åndens himmelbue
vi heller mulm og mørke se
end solens blanke lue!
Nej, aldrig spørges det fra Nord,
vi lyset vil fordunkle!
Som nordlys i fribårne ord
det sås på himlen funkle,
og ses det skal ved nordens pol,
ej blot i kroppens rige:
midsommerens den bolde sol
vil ej for midnat vige!
Oplysning være skal vor lyst,
er det så kun om sivet,
men først og sidst med folkerøst
oplysningen om livet;
den springer ud af folkedåd
og vokser, som den vugges,
den stråle i vort folkeråd,
til aftenstjernen slukkes!
Enlightenment
Is light but for the learnèd few
to try and spell unstriven?
No, heav’n would bless all others too
and light’s a gift from heaven,
the sun will with the farmer go
the learnèd few eschewing,
it best lights up from top to toe
the one who’s up and doing.
Is light the planets’ sole domain
no sight and speech possessing?
Is not the word our mouth can frame
a light where souls find blessing!
Thereby all spirits we behold,
as sun’s rays bodies brighten,
it strikes like lightning in the soul
and does from clouds enlighten.
Does light on certain terms alone
deserve our praise so poorly?
Is light not everywhere a boon!
For it is life’s eye surely!
Shall we because of errant ways
in spirit’s vault of heaven
on pitch-black darkness rather gaze
than on sun’s blazing beacon!
No, from the North was never heard
that light we would be dimming!
like northern lights in free-born word
’twas seen in heaven gleaming,
and shall at northern pole be seen
not only here ’mongst mortals;
midsummer’s valiant sun’s bright sheen
defies black midnight’s portals!
Enlightenment shall be our joy,
though reeds alone be brightened,
but first and last with common voice
may all life be enlightened;
it has its source in common deed
and grows as it is tended,
may it our common council feed
till evening star is ended!
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