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Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Lokkende toner
Beckoning sounds
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Johan Sebastian Welhaven (1807 –
1873), HK 101, Op. 3, No. 6)
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Johan Sebastian Welhaven (1807 –
1873), HK 101, Op. 3, No. 6)
Der fløi en Fugl over Granehei,
som synger de kjendte Sange;
den lokked mig ud fra slagen Vei,
og ind paa de skyggede Gange.
Jeg kom til skjulte Kilder og Kjern,
hvor Elgene Tørsten slukke;
men Fuglerøsten lød endnu fjern,
som Nyn mellem Vindens Sukke:
Tirili Tove! Tiririli Tove!
Langt, langt bort i Skove!
A bird flew over the hillside,
Singing the well-known songs,
It lured me away from the path I was taking
Into the shaded passages.
I came to hidden fountains and churns
Where the elgs come to quench their thirst.
But the bird’s voice was still far away
melting as a hum in the wind’s sighing.
Tirili Tove, far, far away in the forest!
!
!
Jeg stod i Birkenes høie Sal,
mens Midsommerdagen helded;
der tindrede Dug i dypen Dal,
det skinned som Guld af Fjeldet.
Da bæved Lunden, da lød det nær
som af en susende Vinge,
og grant jeg hørte fra Fjeld og Trær
de lokkende Toner klinge.
Tirili Tove! Tiririli Tove!
Langt, langt bort i Skove!
!
Der fører en Sti saa langt afsted
til Lien, hvor Fuglen bygger.
Der stemmer den op hver Sang, den ved,
i dunkleste Graneskygger.
Men om jeg aldrig kan vinde did,
jeg kjender dog Lokkesangen,
hvor sødt den kalder ved Sommertid,
naar Kvelden har dugget Vangen:
Tirili Tove! Tiririli Tove!
Langt, langt bort i Skove!
!
!
I was standing in the high hall of the birches
While the midsummer day was coming to an
end
The sparkling cloth in the deep valley
Was reflected in gold against the mountains.
Then suddenly the voice trembled,
it sounded near as the whizzing of a wing
And distinctly I could hear the beckoning
sounds
Ringing out from among the trees and the
mountains.
Tirili Tove, far, far away in the forest!
!
A path leads far away into the mountainside
Where the bird has built its nest.
There in the darkest places
it tunes all the songs it knows.
But it’s doubtful if I will ever turn to that
place,
I already know the calling song of the bird,
How sweetly it calls in summertime
When the evening has covered the meadows.
Tirili Tove, far, far away in the forest!
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Af maanens sølverglød
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
The silvery moonlight flows
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Emanuel Geibel (1815-1884), HK 144,
Op. 20, No. 2)
text: Emanuel Geibel (1815-1884), HK 144,
Op. 20, No. 2)
!
Af Maanens Sølverglød der randt en Strøm i
Lunden,
Og Vinden slummerbunden og stille Taage
flød.
Og som ei mindste Straa sig rørte, ei en
Ranke,
Saa hver en Smertestanke i Slummer dysset
laa.
!
From branch to branches in the woods the
silvery moonlight flows,
The mists rise in the valley, the wind has
fallen asleep.
And not a straw is roused, no foliage, no
vine,
Thus every aching thought has also gone to
rest. Ja i en saadan Stund dit Billed klart sig
How clearly you appear in the depth of my
maler.
soul! Mig tyktes at jeg taler med dig paa Sjelens
This moment seems as if talking to you. Bund.
In blissful peace I feel: We are one, even
I salig Samklang nu os kan ei skille Rummet. though apart, God Nat, en Fred fornummet har, Elskte,
Good night, and may such peace, beloved,
ogsaa du!
also be granted you! God Nat, god Nat, en Fred fornummet har,
Good night, good night, and may such peace,
Elskte, ogsaa du!
beloved, also be granted you!
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Ingrids vise
Ingrid’s tune
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
from Otte norske viser, HK 148, Op. 6, No.
4)
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
from Otte norske viser, HK 148, Op. 6, No.
4)
Og Ræven laa under Birkerod bort ved
Lynget, bort ved Lynget,
og Haren hoppede på lette Fod over Lynget,
over Lynget.
Det er vel noget til Solskinsdag!
Det glitrer for og det glitrer bag over Lynget,
over Lynget.
The fox lay still by the birch-tree's root in the
heather.
The hare was running with nimble foot o'er
the heather.
Was ever brighter a sunshine-day, Before,
behind me, and every way,
O'er the heather!
!
!
Og Ræven lo under Birkerod bort ved
Lynget, bort ved Lynget,
og Haren hoppede i vilde Mod over Lynget,
over Lynget.
“Jeg er saa glad over alle Ting!
Hu, hei, gjør du slige svære Spring over
Lynget, over Lynget!”
!
Og Ræven vented bag Birkerod bort ved
Lynget, bort ved Lynget,
og Haren tumlede ham midt imod over
Lynget, over Lynget.
“Men Gud forbarme sig er du der!
Aa Kjære, hvor tør du danse her over
Lynget, over Lynget!”
!
!
The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root
in the heather.
The hare was running with daring foot o'er
the heather.
“I am so happy for everything! Hallo! Why
go you with mighty spring o'er the heather?
!
The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root in the
heather.
The hare dashed to him with reckless foot
o'er the heather.
!
“May God have mercy, but this is queer! --
Good gracious, how dare you dance so here
o'er the heather?”
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Over de høie fjelde
Over the lofty mountains
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
from Otte norske viser, HK 156, Op. 6, No.
7)
from Otte norske viser, HK 156, Op. 6, No.
7)
Undrer mig paa, hvad jeg faar at se
over de høie Fjelde?
Øiet møder nok bare Sne,
rundt omkring står det grønne Træ,
vilde saa gjerne over,
tro, naar det Reisen vover?
Wonder I must, what I once may see
Over the lofty mountains!
Eyes shall meet only snow, may be;
Standing here, each evergreen tree
Over the heights is yearning;--
Will it be long in learning?
!
Ørnen løfter med sterke Slag
over de høie Fjelde.
Ror i den unge kraftfulde Dag,
mætter sit Mod i det vilde Jag,
senker sig, hvor den lyster,
ser mod de fremmede Kyster!
!
Skal jeg da aldrig, aldrig naa,
over de høie Fjelde.
Skal denne Mur mine tanker slaa
saadan med Sne, Is og Rædsel staa,
stengende der til det Siste,
blive min Dødningekiste?
Pinions strong bear the eagle away
Over the lofty mountains
Forth to the young and vigorous day;
There he exults in the swift, wild play,
Rests where his spirit orders,--
Sees all the wide world's borders.
Shall I then never, never go
Over the lofty mountains?
Shall to my thoughts this wall say,--No!
Stand with terror of ice and snow,
Barring the way unwended,
Coffin me when life is ended?
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Synnøves sang
Synnøve’s song
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
from Otte norske viser, HK 149, Op. 6, No.
3)
(Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1868),
text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832-1910),
from Otte norske viser, HK 149, Op. 6, No.
3)
Nu Tak for alt ifra vi var smaa
og legte sammen i Skog og Lage.
Jeg tænkte, Legen den skulde gaa
op i de graanende Dage.
!
Now thank you for all since when we were
small and played together in the woods and
made-believe.
I thought the playing would have gone on
Up in the Greening days.
!
I thought the playing would go on
Out from the leafy, light birches
Forward to where the Solbakke house stands
And to the Red-painted church.
!
Jeg tænkte Legen den skulde gaa
ud fra de løvede, lyse Birke,
did frem hvor Solbakkehuse staa
og til den rødmalte Kirke.
Jeg sad og vented saa mangen Kveld
og saa did bort under Graneheien;
men skygged gjorde det mørke Fjeld,
og du, du fandt ikke Veien.
Naa ska’ en liten faa sova saa
södt
Now a little baby shall sleep
(Norsk Folkesang)
Now the little one shall sleep so sweetly
the cradle is made up for the baby
It shall lie there so tenderly and so softly
The baby may sleep safely
Quiet, quiet, sleep so sweetly
God's angel is minding the baby
Naa ska’ en liten faa sova saa södt,
Vögga staar reje te baane.
Der ska’ en ligge saa vart aa saa blödt,
Trygt kan de sova de baane.
Ro, ro, sova saa södt,
Guds engel tar vare paa baane.
I sat and waited so many nights
And looked out there from under the pine
hill;
But shadows made the mountain dark,
And you, you did not find the way.
(Norwegian Folksong)
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Lind
Limetree
(Composer: Agathe Ursula Backer Grøndahl
(1847-1907), text: Vilhelm Bergsøe
(1835-1911), from Blomstervignetter, Op. 23,
No. 1)
(Composer: Agathe Ursula Backer Grøndahl
(1847-1907), text: Vilhelm Bergsøe
(1835-1911), from Blomstervignetter, Op. 23,
No. 1)
Jeg ved ei, hvoraf det kommer,
Og om det som mig gaar Fleer;
Men hvergang Lindene blomstrer
Kan jeg ei sove meer.
Men naar jeg vandrer alene
I Nattens hviskende Vind,
Da kommer de gamle Minder
Og gjöre saa tungt mit Sind.
I know not if it’s common, Know not the reason why, But each time lime trees blossom, I cannot rest my eye. My mind and thought is uneasy Because of these flowers’ incense, So I head out alone and wander, Where the night air is not so tense. But when I walk here alone, In the whispering wind of the night, Comes memories of old and forgotten Filled with sadness and fright.
Da gaar jeg ind i mit Kammer
Og sysler med Bog og Pen;
Men hvergang Lindene blomstrer
Har jeg min Nöd igjen.
That’s when I go to my chambers And take up my book and my pen; Thought every time limes trees blossom, My heart will suffer again.
!
Da fyldes mit Sind og min Tanke
Saa selsomt ved Blomsternes Duft,
At ud jeg alene maa vandre
I Nattens kjölige Luft.
!
!
!
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Serenade
Serenade
(Composer: Agathe Ursula Backer Grøndahl (Composer: Agathe Ursula Backer Grøndahl
(1847-1907), text: Ernst Frederik Wilhelm
(1847-1907), text: Ernst Frederik Wilhelm
von der Recke (1848-1933), Op. 21)
von der Recke (1848-1933), Op. 21)
Elskede, hvis Du sover,
Vugget paa Drömmens Vover,
Som Liliens lukkede Bæger,
Vugget ved Skovens Rand,
Hvis hvilende Renhed præger
Söens det dunkle Vand,
!
Min Sang vil paa lydlös Vinge
Sig over dens Bölge svinge,
Og se af dens rolige Vande
Sit Bilded straales igjen.
Som Lilliens blomstrende Pande
Af Voven, der glider hen;
!
Min Sang vil kredsende vaage,
Vil som en vingelet Maage,
Tyst over Vandene seile,
Forsölvet af Maanens Ström,
Og kun som et Luftsyn speile
Sin Flygt i din lyse Dröm,
Sin Flygt i din lyse Dröm!
Dearest, when you are sleeping,
Being rocked by the waves of your dream,
Like the chalice of the lilies
Waving at the skirts of the woods
Whose reposing purity darkens the water.
!
On soundless wings my song shall
Swing over its waves
And in the quiet water it will see
Its reflection shine again,
Like the blossoming lily
Is drifted away by the wave.
!
My song shall daringly circle
Like a carefree seagull,
Soundlessly sailing across the water
Turned silver by the beam of the moon
And merely mirror as an airy vision
Its flight in your happy dream,
Its flight in your happy dream!
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Længsel
Longing
(Composer: Johan Severin Svendsen
(1840-1911), text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
(1832-1910), from 4 Mélodies, Op. 24)
(Composer: Johan Severin Svendsen
(1840-1911), text: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
(1832-1910), from 4 Mélodies, Op. 24)
Aftnen er stille,
tonerne trille lydlöse ned i det evige väld.
Kun mine tanker lyttende vanker;
Vil hun ej komme i kväld?
Vinteren drömmer, stjärnerne svömmer
gjennem dens florlette syner og ler,
nävnende sommer elskov og blommer,
tör hun ej möde mig mer?
Modet du savner
rimfrosten favner längselens grene,
fortryllet du står.
Men jeg tör sprenge däkket
o tränge ind hvor i drömme du går.
Violen
The Violet
(Composer: Johan Severin Svendsen
(1840-1911), text: unknown, Op. 25a)
(Composer: Johan Severin Svendsen
(1840-1911), text: unknown, Op. 25a)
Imellem visne Halmstraa, og mörke,
bladlöse Trær
Den förste Viol bebuder, at Vaarens Frelse er
nær.
Det er som dens duftende Aande en eneste
Længsel var,
Det er som den fra Naturen en bön til
Himlen bar.
Det er som Vinteren maatte Böies for denne
Bön,
Som Solen maatte stige Mer luende mere
skjön!
Og Vaar og Sommer skal komme, Med
Glödende Farveskin,
Og tusinde straalende Blomster skal spredes
i deres Trin.
Men Sommerens bedste Rose, Hvor
straalende end den er,
Faar aldrig den förste Vaarduft, Som gjör
mig Violen kjær.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Den fyrste Song
The first song
(Composer: Lars Sørås (1862-1925), arr.
Per Selberg (1920-2009), text: Per Sivle
(1857-1904))
(Composer: Lars Sørås (1862-1925), arr.
Per Selberg (1920-2009), text: Per Sivle
(1857-1904))
Den fyrste Song eg høyra fekk,
var Mor sin Song ved Vogga;
dei mjuke ord til Hjarta gjekk,
Dei kunde Graaten stogga.
The first song I got to hear
was mom's song by the cradle
those soft words went to the heart
they could still the crying.
Dei sulla meg så underleg,
så stilt og mjukt te sova;
dei synte meg ein fager Veg
opp frå vår vesle Stova.
The lullaby for me so wonderful,
so quiet and soft, to sleep,
showed me a beautiful way
out of our small living room.
!
!
Den Vegen ser eg enno tidt,
når eg får Auga kvila;
der stend ein Engel, smiler blidt,
som berre ei kan smila.
!
Og når eg sliten trøytnar av
i Strid mot alt som veilar,
eg høyrer stillt frå Mor si Grav
den Song som all Ting heilar.
Solveigs sang
!
!
I see that path as I saw it then,
when I close my eyes to rest;
there stands an angel, smiling sweetly,
as only she could smile.
!
And when I'm worn-out, tired of
struggling, of all that crosses me,
I quietly hear from my mother's grave
the sorrow that heals everything.
Solveig’s song
(Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text: (Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text:
Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906), from "Peer
Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906), from "Peer
Gynt", Op. 23, No. 19)
Gynt", Op. 23, No. 19)
Kanske vil der gå både Vinter og Vår,
og næste Sommer med, og det hele År,
men engang vil du komme, det ved jeg vist,
og jeg skal nok vente, for det lovte jeg sidst.
!
Gud styrke dig, hvor du i Verden går,
Gud glæde dig, hvis du for hans
Fodskammel står.
Her skal jeg vente til du kommer igjen;
og venter du hist oppe, vi træffes der, min
Ven!
The winter may go, and the spring disappear,
next summer, too, may fade, and the whole
long year,
but you will be returning, in truth, I know,
and I will wait for you as I promised long
ago.
!
May God guide and keep you, wherever you
may go,
upon you His blessing and mercy bestow.
And here I will await you till you are here;
and if you are in Heaven, I'll meet you there.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Jule-Sne
Christmas’ snow
(Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text: (Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text:
Holger Henrik Herholdt Drachmann
Holger Henrik Herholdt Drachmann
(1846-1908), Op. 49, No. 5)
(1846-1908), Op. 49, No. 5)
Jeg vandrer gjennem Skoven ved Juletid:
der falder Sne fra oven så vinterhvid,
så vinterhvid den frosne Dug
neddrysser lydløst, Fnug ved Fnug,
og smælter på min Hånds, den varme Flade,
mens Foden træder mellem visne Blade.
!
O'er wooded hills I wander, 'tis
Christmastide; disturbing thoughts I ponder
as snowflakes glide. The hoarfrost gleams in winter sun; soft snowflakes falling one by one soon melt upon the hand I hold out spreading on straw and wither'd leaves my feed are
treading The melting snowflakes are winter's tears, the wind is the sound of her sighing; they echo our spirit's innermost fears; that the end of all life is dying! Must all surrender to winter's wind? Bides aught but affliction and sorrow? No, winter's snow to our souls is akin, concealing the hope of the morrow. Jeg ser på Hånden de tårer stå
det er som en Hulken jeg hørte:
nu blir vore Minder, store som små,
gjennem Skoven for Vinden førte.
Skal Alt da hvirvles for Vintren hen,
skal Sorg og Adskillelse råde?
!
Nej, Julesneen er Menneskets Ven,
den gjemmer hans dybeste Gåde.
!
På Hånden et Fnug en Dråbe så hed
vi stirrer mod tindrende Blikke:
en Tåre, som gjennem vor Tanke gled
ak! andet er det vel ikke!
Men krymper vi os under Verdens Nød
mens Tiderne ældes og strænges:
!
den frosne Tåre, den falder så blød,
på Alt, hvad som savner og længes.
!
Jeg vandrer gjennem Skoven ved Juletid:
der falder Sne fra oven så forårsblid;
så forårsmildt de bløde Fnug
i Faldet smælter som en Dug,
det nådigt alle skjulte Spirer væder,
mens alle Minders Kilder sagte græder.
A flake on the hand, a droplet so warm, ephemeral visions of sadness, have burden'd our spirit with such alarm; ah! let us leave this dark madness! If pity and care for the human plight cause gloom and despair to come thronging,
recall the snowflakes so fluffy and white that cover all sadness and longing. O'er wooded hills I wander, 'tis Christmastide; disturbing thoughts I ponder as
snowflakes glide.
The hope of spring is in the air, soft snow is melting ev'rywhere. The hidden seeds of life son end their
sleeping,
as souls immers'd in gloom are softly
weeping.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Våren
Springtide
(Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text: (Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907), text:
Aasmund Olavsson Vinje (1818-1870), op.
Aasmund Olavsson Vinje (1818-1870), op.
33, no. 2)
33, no. 2)
!
!
!
!
Enno ein Gong fekk eg Vetren å sjå
for Våren å røma;
Heggen med Tre som der Blomar var på,
eg atter såg bløma.
Enno ein Gong fekk eg Isen å sjå
frå Landet å fljota,
Snjoen å bråna og Fossen i Å
at fyssa og brjota.
Graset det grøne eg enno ein Gong
fekk skoda med Blomar;
enno eg høyrde at Vårfuglen song
mot Sol og mot Sumar.
Smågiddren enddå meg unntes at sjå
På Vårbakken dansa,
Fivreld at fløksa og fjuka ifrå
Der Blomar seg kransa.
Alt dette Vårliv eg atter fekk sjå,
Som siden eg miste.
Men eg er tungsam og spyrgja meg må:
Tru det er det siste?
Låt det så vera: Eg myket af Vænt
I Livet fekk njota;
Meire eg fekk enn eg havde fortent
Og Alting må trjota.
!
Eingong eg sjølv i den vårlege Eim,
som mettar mit Auga,
eingong eg der vil meg finna ein Heim
og symjande lauga.
Alt det, som Våren imøte meg bar
og Blomen, eg plukkad',
Federnes Ånder eg trudde det var,
som dansad og sukkad',
Derfor eg fann millom Bjørkar og Bar
i Våren ei Gåta;
derfor det Ljod i den Fløyta eg skar,
meg tyktes at gråta.
Once again winter's face would I see
to Spring's glory waning,
whitethorn outspreading its clusters so free
in beauty enchaining.
Once more behold from the earth day by day
the ice disappearing,
snow melting fast and in thunder and spray
the river, careering.
Emerald meadows, your flow'rets I'll spy and
hail each new comer;
listen again to the lark in the sky
who warbles of summer.
Glittering sunbeams how fain would I watch
on bright hillocks glancing,
butterflies seeking from blossoms to snatch
their treasures while dancing.
Spring's many joys once again would I taste
ere fade they forever.
But, heavy-hearted, I feel that I haste
from this world to sever.
So be it then! yet in Nature so fair
much bliss I could find me;
over and past is my plentiful share,
I leave all behind me.
!
Once more I'm drawn to the Springgladdened vale that stilleth my longing;
there I find sunlight and rest without fail,
and raptures come thronging.
All unto which here the Spring giveth birth,
each flow'r I have riven,
seems to me now I am parting from the earth
a spirit from Heaven.
Therefore I hear all around from the ground
mysterious singing,
music from reeds that of old I made sound,
like sighs faintly ringing.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Jeg elsker Dig
I love you
(Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907),
text: Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875),
from Hjertets melodier, Op. 5, No. 3)
(Composer: Edvard Grieg (1843-1907),
text: Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875),
from Hjertets melodier, Op. 5, No. 3)
Min Tankes Tanke ene du er vorden,
Du er mit Hjertes første Kærlighed.
Jeg elsker Dig, som Ingen her på Jorden,
Jeg elsker Dig i Tid og Evighed!
You have become the single thought of my
thoughts, you are the first love of my heart.
I love you as no one else here on Earth,
I love you for time and eternity.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations
Sommernatt ved fjorden
By the Fjord
(Composer and text: Ketil Bjørnstad (1952 -) (Composer and text: Ketil Bjørnstad (1952 -)
Jæger ror og Oda sitter foran i en pram som
de har tatt.
Jeg står ved vinduet i natt og en fiol er min
trøst.
Snart vil sommervinden varsle høst.
Men lyset er i nord.
Vær velsignet, du som ror.
!
Jæger rows. In front, there's Oda sitting
In a boat they found somewhere.
The night wind whispers in my hair.
And from my window I see
That the summer's soon a memory,
But now the north light glows.
May God bless the one who rows.
Båten glir
nå slipper Jæger årene og strekker seg langt
frem.
Hun tar hans hånd, den er hans hjem.
Hun ler, jeg ser at en pram vender nesen ned
så blygt i skam
for det som skjer ombord og de feberhete
ord.
!
Now the boat
Is gliding. Jæger drops the oars
And takes her by the hand.
He knows that she will understand.
She smiles. I see that the boat
Barely manages to stay afloat.
It dips its nose in shame
As their fever starts to flame.
Noe skjer
Han ligger der med hodet i min søsters
mørke fang.
En svarttrost vekker oss med sang.
En liten båt glir avsted mellom natt og dag i
fjordens led
ved Hvitsten der vi bor.
Jæger retter seg og ror.
!
Hours fly by.
A blackbird wakes us up. I see
My sister resting there,
Her hand caressing his dark hair.
A little boat glides away
As the night becomes the edge of day
Beyond the Hvitsten shore,
And he takes the oars once more.
Nok en natt er over, lyset kommer brått.
Min søster er litt trett.
Et dampskip fløyter, han ror rett mot dette
hus.
Det var alt og jeg skjelver, det er ganske
kaldt,
men Oda Lasson ler mot sin bleke kavaler.
Then the night
Surrenders to the sudden light.
My sister blinks her eyes,
A seagull calls out in surprise,
And then he rows toward our house
While I shiver in my summer blouse.
But Oda's warm embrace
Brings the colour to his face.
Båten blir fortøyd til bryggen nedenfor mitt
vindu,
de står opp.
Han prøver løfte hennes kropp.
Han elsker alt det hun er.
Men han skjønner at han er for nær.
Han kysser hennes hår.
Solen kommer, og han går.
!
Now he ties
The boat beneath my window, then
He stands up very tall
And lifts her up. She seems so small.
And he loves all that she is,
But he knows she never will be his.
He kisses her at dawn,
With the rising sun, he's gone.
Over de høie fjelde (Over the lofty mountains)
Norwegian texts with English translations