Bull in bullish mood!

Chopin i sideværelset

Den skurk, nu spiller han igjen Chopin,

mens jeg skal skrive en av mine sange!

For fan, nu kan jeg skrive ned i flæng;

nu blir det bleke tøv med et til klange;

nu voldtar tonen dette arme ordet,

og som et orgel skjælver skrivebordet!

Min pen blir taktstok til hans melodier,

Chopin og jeg blir brødre — og genier;

et sælsomt yndigt rosenflor gror ud

paa tonestængler i papirets have;

men stanser han et øieblik — o Gud,

min store uransagelige Gud —

da visner alle over hvide grave!

Chopin in the adjoining room

The scoundrel’s playing Chopin once again,

while I’ve a song that I would be composing!

Goddammit, inspiration floods my brain – 

pale nonsense into sounds I'm now transposing;

each note by force this helpless word is taking,

and like an organ my poor desk is shaking.

My pen’s a baton for his tunes created,

my mind with Chopin’s genius is mated;

roses of beauty rare unfold and nod

on note-stems in a paper-garden bower;

but should he for a moment stop – oh God,

my mighty and unfathomable God –

they wither over white graves, every flower!