Martsviolerne
Sig Himlen hvælver saa reen og klar,
Iisblomster fryse paa Rudens Glar.
I Solens Flamme saa smukt de staae,
En Yngling kommer og seer derpaa.
Men som han paa de Blomster seer,
To Pige-Øine derude leer.
Saa skjønne Blomster han aldrig saae,
To Martsvioler saa smukke blaae.
Iisblomsten smelter ved Kindens Brand,
— Vor Herre hjelpe den unge Mand!
The March violets
The vaulted sky’s pure and clear again
Ice flowers of frost deck the window pane.
In flaming sun they spread out so fair
A young man comes and inspects them there.
But as he gazes at each fine flower
A girl’s two smiling eyes him devour.
He’s never seen flowers of such deep hue,
Two fine March violets of perfect blue.
The ice flowers melt from his cheeks aglow,
– May God the poor man some mercy show!
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