Edvard Grieg, “Våren” (Spring)

 

Edvard Grieg, “Våren” (Spring)

 

 

 

“Våren” (Norwegian)

Enno ein Gong fekk eg Vetren at sjaa for Vaaren at røma;
Heggen med Tre som der Blomar var paa eg atter saag bløma.
Enno ein Gong fekk eg Isen at sjaa fraa Landet at fljota,
Snjoen at braana, og Fossen i Aa at fyssa og brjota.
Graset det grøne eg enno ein Gong fekk skoda med blomar [eg seier hei]1
enno eg høyrde at Vaarfuglen song mot Sol og mot Sumar.
[Enno ein Gong den Velsignad eg fekk, at Gauken eg høyrde,
enno ein Gong ut paa Aakren eg gjekk, der Plogen dei kjøyrde.
Enno ein Gong fekk eg skoda meg varm paa Lufti og Engi;
Jordi at sjaa som med lengtande Barm at sukka i Sængi.
Vaarsky at leika der til og ifraa, og Skybankar krulla,
so ut av Banken tok Tora til slaa og kralla og rulla.
Saagiddren endaa meg unntest at sjaa paa Vaarbakken dansa.
Fivreld at floksa og fjuka ifraa, der Blomar seg kransa.
Alt dette Vaarliv eg atter fekk sjaa, som sidan eg miste.
Men eg er tungsam og spyrja meg maa: tru det er det siste?
Lat det so vera: Eg myket av Vænt i Livet fekk njota.
Meire eg fekk en eg havde fortent, og Alting maa trjota.]1
Eingong eg sjølv i den vaarlege Eim, som mettar mit Auga,
eingong eg der vil meg finna ein Heim og symjande lauga.
Alt det som Vaaren imøte meg bar, og Blomen eg plukkad’,
Federnes Aander eg trudde det var, som dansad’ og sukkad’.
Derfor eg fann millom Bjørkar og Bar i Vaaren ei Gaata;
derfor det Ljod i den Fløyta eg skar, meg tyktest at graata.

 

— A.O. Vinje

 

 

Spring (English)

Yes, 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 Spring-gladdened 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.

About Roger W. Smith

Roger W. Smith is a writer and independent scholar based in New York City. His experience includes freelance writing and editing, business writing, book reviewing, and the teaching of writing and literature as an adjunct professor. Mr. Smith's interests include personal essays and opinion pieces; American and world literature; culture, especially books and reading; current issues that involve social, moral, and philosophical views; and experiences of daily living from a ground level perspective. He hosts separate websites devoted to the authors Theodore Dreiser and Pitirim A. Sorokin and to classical music as well as family history/genealogy.
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