Hans Christian Andersen: 'Soldaten' (1830)

 

Soldaten

 

Med dæmpede Hvirvler Trommerne gaae,

— Ak, skal vi dog aldrig til Stedet naae,

At han kan faae Ro i sin Kiste?

— Jeg tror mit Hjerte vil briste!

 

Jeg havde i Verden en eneste Ven,

Ham er det, man bringer til Døden hen

Med klingende Spil gjennem Gaden,

Og jeg er med i Paraden!

 

For sidste Gang skuer han nu Guds Sol,

Nu sidder han alt paa Dødens Stol;

De binde ham fast til Pælen.

— Forbarm dig, Gud, over Sjælen!

 

Paa eengang sigte de alle Ni.

De Otte skyde jo reent forbi;

De rysted´ paa Haanden af Smerte,

— Kun jeg traf ham midt i hans Hjerte!

 

 

The Soldier

 

With deep muffled rolls the drums resound

– Ah, will we ne’er reach the appointed ground,

So he in his coffin may rest now?

– I feel that my heart’s sore oppressed now!

 

I had in the world but this single friend,

And it is his death with which this will end

Loud music reveals the progression,

And I’m part of this procession!

 

For the last time of God’s sun he’s aware,

Already he’s sitting on death’s dread chair;

To the post they now firmly bind him.

–On his soul may God’s mercy find him!

 

At one same second all nine take aim.

Eight miss completely – what is to blame?

Hands shook from the pain that this gave them,

– I only his heart pierced to save him.

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Taaren' (1829)

 

Taaren

 

— — hiin store Fader gav

Blomsten Dug og Øiet Taarer.

    F. H. Guldberg.

 

Mit Hjerte er en Himmel graa,

Hvor Sorgerne som Kloder staae;

Saa underlig er deres Gang,

Derfor er Barmen dem for trang.

Græd kun, ja græd, saa faaer Du Ro!

Hver Taare, er en Verden jo;

En Verden fuld af Sorg og Lyst,

Der ruller fra det snevre Bryst.

 

Og har Du grædt dit Øie træt,

Da bliver Du om Hjertet let,

Thi Sorgen, om den end er stor,

I hine Taare-Verdner boer!

Og troer Du vel, at han som glad

Seer Krybet paa det mindste Blad,

Han, som det Hele stræber til,

At han en Verden glemme vil?

 

 

The Tear

 

— — yon great Father gave

the flower dew and the eye tears.

    F. H. Guldberg.

 

My heart is like a vast grey sky,

Where sorrows stand like orbs on high;

Their movements are most strange to see,

Constrict the tight chest painfully.

Just weep, yes weep, you shall find rest!

Each teardrop is a world compressed;

A world in joy and sorrow swirled,

That from the taut-stretched breast unfurls.

 

And when you’ve wept till eyes are sore,

You’ll find your heart’s restored once more,

For sorrow, though it’s great in size

In yonder worlds of tears resides!

Do you think He who loves to see

An insect on the smallest leaf

He, upon whom all hearts are set,

A single world will e’er forget?

 

 

Charles Ducal: 'Afscheid' (PS 24)

 

Afscheid

 

Als de dag komt dat ik je moet missen,

laat het door schuld of misverstand zijn,

en niet door de dood.

 

Hoe moet ik aan deze tafel zitten,

deze koffiekan heffen, dit mes over het brood

laten gaan, als ik niet weet dat jij elders

aan tafel zit, koffie inschenkt, de dag begint?

 

Ik kan het aan om niets van je te weten

behalve dat waar je ademhaalt

er niet zo’n ondraaglijke leegte kan zijn

die niets meeneemt, niets achterlaat.

 

Als het moet zal ik je vergeten, zoals deze kan

dit mes jou zullen vergeten op voorwaarde

dat je bent opgestaan, we je weg zagen gaan

maar hoe moet ik de dag beginnen

 

als je alleen maar dood bent, stomweg dood,

wegend als lood in al deze dingen, dit mes,

deze tafel, dit brood, nooit weg

kunt gaan om mij niet te missen?

 

Hoe raak ik je kwijt als je nergens bent,

behalve in mij, ik ben niet zo wijd.

 

 

Parting

 

Should the day come I have to miss you,

may guilt or misunderstanding be the cause,

may it not be death.

 

How am I to sit here at this table,

lift up this coffee pot, let this knife glide over

the bread, if I do not know that elsewhere you

sit at a table, pour out coffee, start your day?

 

I can manage not knowing anything about you

except that where you are drawing breath

there cannot be such an insufferable void

that takes nothing with it, leaves nothing behind.

 

If necessary, I’ll forget you, just like this pot,

this knife will forget you, provided 

you have got up too, we saw you go away

but how am I going to start the day

 

if all you are is dead, just downright dead

weighing like lead in all these things, this knife,

this table, this bread, never can go

away so as not to miss me?

 

How can I be quit of you, if you are nowhere,

except in me, it’s still beyond me.

 

 

Translated in collaboration with Albert Hagenaars

Poetic Synapses 24

 

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'De to Fugle' (1833)

 

De to Fugle (1833)

 

Der bygger en Fugl her dybt i mit Bryst

Saa langt fra Blad og fra Grene;

Den synger i Smerte og selsom Lyst,

Fordi den sidder saa ene.

Den tør kun klynge sig fast til Gud,

Og see gjennem Øinenes Rude ud!

 

For hende den synger sin Sorg og Lyst,

Ved Nætter og lyse Dage;

Der bygger en Fugl i hendes Bryst,

Den søger den sig som Mage.

Den titter ogsaa fra Øiets Blaa

Mon Fuglen ikke kan Fuglen forstaae?

 

Hos mig den synger Alt, hvad den veed,

Mit Liv, min Tanke, min Stræben;

Den selv forraader min Kjærlighed,

Der flygtede bly for Læben.

Den synger sin dybe Sorg og Lyst;

Men Svar har ei Fuglen i hendes Bryst.

 

Den seer så taus gjennem Rudens Glar,

Og det gjør mig sorgfuld og bange.

Fortjener ei Fuglen det mindste Svar,

For Hjertets de dybe Sange?

Den fattige Fugl et hjerte bær’,

Saa tro, som den med de gyldne Fjer!

 

Den synger og sørger sig vist ihjel —

En Anden kan Bruden fæste,

Og hun — ja hun glemmer Fuglen vel,

Og det er ogsaa det Bedste!

De to var’ ei for hinanden skabt’,

Nu, døer den ene, hvad er saa tabt!

 

 

The two birds (1833)

 

A bird’s busy building deep in my breast,

So far from leaves and from trees there; 

It sings from a strange urge and sore oppressed,

Alone it feels ill at ease there.

To cling to God is all it dares do,

And through its eye’s windows take in the view.

 

For her it sings of its joy and distress,

Both night and day it is cheeping;

A bird’s busy building in her breast,

It too for a mate is seeking

It also looks outwards through eyes of blue

For surely a bird knows a bird that’s true?

 

In me it sings of all things it knows,

My life, my thoughts, my endeavours;

It even betrays my love that grows

Which slipped from my shy lips’ tethers,

It sings of its joy and deep distress

But silent remains the bird in her breast.

 

In stares in silence through panes of glass,

And then I feel woeful and cringing.

Surely the bird must deserve at last

An answer to heart’s deep singing?

The poor bird a heart has, if not bold

As true as that with the plumes of gold!

 

It will surely die from its song and grief –

Someone else her one day will marry;

The bird? Her memory of it be brief –

It’s all for the best not to tarry!

The two had paths that just merely crossed,

If one should die, then there’s nothing lost!

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Foraarssang' (1870)

 

Foraarssang

 

End ligger Jorden i Sneens Svøb,

Lystigt paa Søen er Skøiteløb,

Træerne prange med Rimfrost og Krager,

Men imorgen bestemt det dager;

Solen bryder den tunge Sky,

Vaaren rider Sommer i By,

Pilen kaster de uldne Vanter.

Spil op Musikanter,

Alle Smaafugle! stem i, stem i:

“Nu er Vintertiden forbi!”

 

O, hvilket Kys af den varme Sol!

Kom, pluk Skovmærke og Martsviol;

Det er, som Skoven sit Aandedræt holder,

Nu i een Nat hvert Blad sig udfolder,

Kukkeren synger, Du den forstaaer,

Hør, Du skal leve i mange Aar!

Verden er ung! vær ung med de Unge.

Lad Hjerte og Tunge

Juble med Vaaren, freidig og fri:

“Aldrig er Ungdomstiden forbi!”

 

Aldrig er Ungdomstiden forbi!

Jordlivet er et heelt Trylleri,

Solskin og Stormveir, Glæde og Smerte.

Der er en Verden lagt i vort Hjerte,

Den svinder ei som et Stjerneskud.

Mennesket skabtes i Billed af Gud,

Gud og Naturen staae evige unge.

Vaar, lær Du os sjunge,

Hver lille Fugl stemmer med deri:

“Aldrig er Ungdomstiden forbi!”

 

Udgivet i avisen Dagens Nyheder

den 17. marts 1870

 

 

Spring Song

 

Still in its cloak of snow lies the earth,

On the lake skating is full of mirth,

Trees are adorned with rime frost and crow,

Change this tomorrow will overthrow:

The heavy cloud the sun off will fling,

Spring to the town soon will summer bring,

The willows their woollen gloves throw away.

Musicians, begin now to play,

Join in, all you birds, every one:

‘Now the winter is over and done!’

 

Oh, what a kiss the sun brings anew!

Come, pick spring violets and woodruff too,

The wood almost holds its breath it seems,

In one night all leaves burst at the seams,

Cuckoos now sing – this message they give,

Listen, you’ve many years left to live!

The world is young! stay young with the young.

Rejoice now with heart and with tongue,

Rejoice with the spring, so free, on the run:

‘Youth can never be over and done!’

 

Youth can never be over and done!

Earthly life’s magic, though it’s home-spun,

Sunshine and storm time, pleasures and pains.

It is a world that in our hearts reigns,

It will not dwindle like some shooting star.

Made in God’s image, this is where we are.

God and Nature stay ever young

Spring, teach us to sing with your tongue,

To join in not one small bird will shun:

‘Youth can never be over and done!’

 

Published in the newspaper Dagens Nyheder

on 17 March 1870

 

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Tunge Timer' (1875)

Udgivet i Illustreret Tidende 13 juni 1875.

 

Tunge Timer

 

Vor Tid skriver nu paa sin Viisdoms Bog

Er det Godt eller til det Værre?

Det er forfærdeligt at blive så klog

At man ikke troer paa Vorherre!

 

O det var bedre for Hver og Een,

Der foragter hver fattig Begavet,

At om hans Hals hang en Møllesten,

Og han laa dybest i Havet.

 

Nu alle Overmaals Kloge veed,

Gud skabtes ved Menneskets Snille

Og Mennesket er “Ufeilbarlighed”,

Et Grundstof er Livets Kilde.

 

Alt hvad vi stræbte og leved’ og led

Udslukkes med Livets Flamme.

I et Bundløst Intet synke vi ned,

Ondt og Godt er Et og det Samme.

 

O evige Gud, bliv hos os! Bliv!

I Dig og ved dig Alt er givet

Forund os i Naade ” det evige Liv”

Og Erindring om Jordelivet!

 

 

Hard Times

 

On its Wisdom Book our age writes away –

Is that good or a sore affliction?

It’s terrible to be so wise one day

The Lord God is held to be fiction!

 

It would be better for old and young

Who despise all without such a notion

If round their necks a millstone was hung,

And they lay deep in the ocean.

 

Now all those wise to excess believe

That God’s just a human invention

Mankind is ‘infallible’ they conceive,

Life’s source just as ‘element’ mention.

 

All that we strove for, lived and endured

Is gutted along with life’s flame.

In endless nothingness down we are lured,

Good and evil are one and the same.

 

Oh, God Eternal, stay with us! Stay!

Both in and by Thee all is given.

For ‘eternal life’ by Thy grace we pray,

And that life here’s remembered in heaven.

 

 

Hans Christian Andersen: Psalme ('Som bladet der fra Træet falder')

 

Psalme (1853)

 

Som Bladet der fra Træet falder,

Saa er mit Jordliv, ikke meer!

Jeg er beredt naar Du mig kalder,

Gud, Du som heelt mit Hjerte seer,

Veed al min Brøst, hvad i mig boer,

Og min Fortrøstning dog saa stor.

 

Gjør Smerten kort i min Forvandling,

Forund mig Barnets hele Mod,

Du dømme Tanke, dømme Handling

I Naade kjærlig, fadergod.

Ryst bort min Angst! kun dig jeg see!

I Jesu-Navn, din Villie skee!

 

 

Hymn (1853)

 

A leaf that from the tree is falling –

Such is my earthly life, not more!

And I am ready at Thy calling,

God, Thou who seest my heart’s deep core,

Knowst my whole breast, its every trait,

And yet my trust in Thee is great.

 

Make pain brief in my transformation,

Grant me the courage of a child,

May Thou judge every thought and action

With mercy, dearest Father mild.

May I see Thee! May fear be gone!

In Jesu’s name, Thy will be done.

Hans Christian Andersen: 'Sang i Skoven' (1845)

 

Sang i Skoven (1845)

 

Afsjunget ved Studenter-Sangforeningen.

 

Her under Skovens grønne Tag

Vi samles ungdomsglade,

Vi plukke vil en Sommerdag

For Hjertets Minde-Blade.

Vi Solskin har i vort humeur,

Og Lystigheden aldrig døer,

Der hvor Studenten kommer.

 

Vi synge fra det grønne Blad

I en harmonisk klynge,

Om Aar saa er vi skilte ad,

Men nye Slægter synge.

Vi er´ som Skov og Melodi,

Et Løv, der er Afvexling i,

Men Stammen staaer og bliver.

 

Éen vorder Bibelsprogets Tolk,

Derovre midt i Lyngen;

En Anden sprætter døde Folk,

Og der forgaaer al Syngen.

Éen bliver Byens Politi,

Dog gamle Sanges Melodi,

Vil tidt for Øret klinge!

 

Vi huske, vi paa Snekken foer,

Os bar de blanke Vover,

Forneden de, men Sangens Chor

Og Himlen ovenover,

Vi huske Videts Bølge-Slag,

Vi huske denne Skovturs Dag

Vor sang, vort Venskab! — hurra!

 

 

Song in the Wood (1845)

 

Sung at the Student Choral Association Outing

 

Here ’neath the wood’s green canopy

We meet with youthful laughter,

A summer day will pick for free,

For heart’s recall hereafter.

Our sun-warmed spirits are most high,

A cheerfulness that ne’er will die

Wherever students gather.

 

We sing a green leaf from this tome

In our harmonious choir,

Ere long we’re scattered, new folk come

Who share the same desire.

We are like woods and melody,

Whose leaves and notes change constantly,

Whose trunk though is deep rooted.

 

One will interpret Holy Writ,

Far west where heather’s growing;

A second cut up corpses, which

All singing is foreclosing.

A third perhaps a policeman be –

But all the old songs’ melodies,

Will through their minds still wander!

 

We will recall our time on board

Our boat, the waves beneath us,

The songs the choir sang, every chord,

And skies above to please us,

Recall the sound of waves at play,

This woodland trip, this perfect day,

Our songs, our friendship! – Hurrah!