Gustaf Fröding: 'En vårmorgen'

 

En vårmorgon

 

Vårens vindar äro ljuva,

glädjens vemod milt de tala

till en själ, som sörjt sig sjuk,

livets vårfröjd kuttrar duva,

kvittrar gråsparv, visslar svala,

gungar björkens krona mjuk.

 

Men min vårfröjd kan ej sjunga,

ej med sparvar kan den kvittra,

ej med duvor kuttra ömt,

icke mjukt i björkar gunga,

icke le åt allt det bittra,

som min dystra natt har drömt.

 

Låt dem kvittra, låt dem kuttra,

endast matt jag känt ditt ljuva

morgonliv, du dag, som grytt,

länge än min själ skall ruva

i de kval, som kanske luttra

mig till vårfröjdsliv på nytt.

 

 

A spring morning

 

Spring’s mild breezes are so soothing,

wistfully their gladness speaking

to a sorrow-stricken soul,

of life’s spring-joy doves are cooing,

sparrows chitting, swallows cheeping,

birch-crowns soughing as they roll.

 

But my spring-joy can’t be singing,

nor join sparrows as they chitter,

nor with doves so softly coo,

not join birch trees’ gentle swinging

not laugh off all which is bitter

that my dark night’s put me through.

 

Let them chitter, have their cooing

I’ve but dimly sensed your surging

soothing dawn-life, new-born day;

my soul still needs time for brooding

over trials which might through purging

once more spring-joy bring my way.