Erik Axel Karlfeldt: 'Svarta Rudolph'

 

Svarta Rudolf

 

Se svarta Rudolf han dansar,

han böjer sin nacke och ler.

Han tänker på stormande nätter

i Amsterdams glädjekvarter.

||: Han drömmer om flickornas kransar

         och svävande bruna ben

         på stranden av blåa slätter

         vid samoamånens sken. :||

 

Han böjer sin nacke och blundar

i flygande roslagsvals.

Så höll han i smäktande lundar

sin arm om chilenskans hals;

||: Så böjde han krullig hjässa

         en afton i negerbyn,

         mot trettonårig prinsessa

         med eldsken i ebenholtzhyn. :||

 

Så dansa de svajiga karlar

på Malagas vinstänkta redd.

Den vitröda tösen hon bävar,

bedårad, förlorad, förledd.

||: Hun ler i den väldiges nävar

         åt allt vad han tog och han gav,

         hon suckar och vinden svarar

         från Ålands jäsande hav. :||

 

 

Black-haired Rudolph

 

Look, black-haired Rudolph, he’s dancing,

he bends his head slightly and smiles.

He’s thinking of wild nights of pleasure

where Amsterdam’s red light beguiles.

||: He’s dreaming of wreathed girls romancing,

         their brown legs that sway to each tune,

         Samoa’s smooth beaches quite azure

         beneath the Pacific’s bright moon. :||

 

His eyes closed, he bends his head slightly,

the Roslagen waltz whirls him on.

As once in dark groves he held lightly

a Chilean girl’s neck like a swan;

||: As once his black curls he inclined to –

         in some shanty town late at night –

         a youthful princess he’d a mind to

         with ebony skin shot with light. :||

 

So dance all the swaying young fellows

on Malaga’s wine-spattered piers

The blushing pale lass slowly mellows,

enchanted, entranced and all ears.

||: She smiles as huge fists hold her tightly

         at all that he took and he gave,

         she sighs and the wind answers quietly

         from Åland’s turbulent waves. :||

 

 

To hear an old 78 recording of this song, go to here.

 

To hear a more famous recording, go to here.