Translations

These are literal translations. They are meant to convey the meanings of the songs; they are not singable. Translating the rhythm and beauty of poetry from one language to another is rarely successful. Translating it so that it can be sung is almost impossible; I have not attempted to do it. I hope, however, that my translations will help to make these songs more accessible to an English-speaking audience, and that they will help English-speaking singers with the interpretation of these songs.

Jump to a song:
















   

1. Folksong Medley
2. Sæterjentens Søndag
3. Efter En Sommerfugl
4. Mot Kveld
5. Barndomsmine Fraa Nordland
6. Nidelven
7. Naar Fjordene Blaaner
8. Anne Knutsdatter
9. Cuckoo
10. Vi Skall Ikkje Sova Burt Sumarnatta
11. Synnøves Sang
12. Ved Ronderne
13. Den Store, Hvide Folk
14. Tyteberet
15. Solveigs Sang
16. Jeg Elsker Dig
17. En Drøm

1. FOLKSONG MEDLEY

These are three of Norway's best known folksongs.

"KJÆRRINGA MÆ STAVEN" (The Woman with the Staff) talks about making butter and coffee—two staples of Norwegian life!


Kjærringa mæ staven,
Høgt oppi Hakkedalen,
Otte potter rømme,
Fire mærker smør,
Saa kjinna Kari,
Ola hadde før,
Kjærringa mæ staven.

Kjærringa mæ kjeppen
hoppa over bekken,
vil du koke kaffi,
eg skal bæra vann.
vil du væra kjærring,
eg skal væra mann,
Kjærringa mæ kjeppen


Woman with a staff,
High up in Hakkedalen,
Eight pots of cream,
Four marks of butter,
Thus churns Kari,
Ola had before,
The woman with a staff.

Woman with a stick
Hops over the brook.
If you'll cook coffee,
I'll carry water.
If you'll be the wife,
I'll be the husband.
Woman with a stick.


The second verse was taught to me by my mother, and I have not seen it written anywhere. My cousin sent me similar verses, but none started with "Kjærringa mæ kjeppen." I don't know if my mother remembered it incorrectly, or if she knew a variation of the song that has not been written down. That is the way of folk music. It gets passed down from generation to generation, and sometimes, it changes...

" PAAL SINE HØNO" (Paul and His Hens) tells of a boy who let his hens out on the hillside while the fox was out—Now he's afraid to go home to his mother.


Paal sine høno paa haugan utslepte,
Hønnun saa lett over haugan sprang.
Paul kunne væl paa høno fornema,
Ræven va ute mæ rumpa saa lang.
Kluk, kluk, kluk, sa' høna paa haugom,
Kluk, kluk, kluk, sa' høna paa haugom,
Paal han sprang og rengde mæ augom;
Naa tor'e inkje koma heim aat'n mor!

Paul let his hens out on the hillside,
The hens ran lightly over the hill.
Paul could tell from the hens' actions,
That the fox was out with his tail so long.
Cluck, cluck, cluck, said the hens on the hillside,
Cluck, cluck, cluck, said the hens on the hillside,
Paul, he ran, and rolled his eyes;
Now I don't dare go home to mother!
 

"PER SPELMANN" (Per the Musician) is the story of a musician who trades his only cow to get
back his good, old violin. He plays that instrument until the fiddle laughs, the boys dance, and the
girls cry!


/:Per spelmann, han hadde ei einaste ku, :/
/:Han bytta bort kua, fekk fela igjen,:/
“Du gamle go'e fiolin, du fiolin,
Du fela mi!”

/:Per spelmann, han spelta,
Aa fela hu laat!:/
/:Saa gutterne dansa',
Aa jenterne graat.:/
“Du gamle go'e fiolin, du fiolin,
Du fela mi!”

/: Aa um eg vert gammal
Som mose paa tre, :/
/: Saa aldrig eg bytta burt
Fela i fe. :/
“Du gamle go'e fiolin, du fiolin,
Du fela mi!”


/:Per, the musician, had only one cow,:/
/:He traded the cow, got his fiddle back,:/
"You old, good violin, you violin,
You fiddle mine!”

/: Per, the musician, he played,
And the fiddle, she laughed! :/
/: 'Til the boys were dancing,
And the girls cried. :/
"You old, good violin, you violin,
You fiddle mine!”

/: And if I become old
As moss on a tree, :/
/:Then never would I trade away
Fiddle again. :/
"You old, good violin, you violin,
You fiddle mine!”

Norwegian Folksongs, arranged by: Richard Feingold

 

 

2. SÆTERJENTENS SØNDAG (The Sæter Girl's Sunday) beautifully expresses the loneliness of the girls who were sent, alone, up to the high summer pastures to care for the cows and the sheep.


Paa solen jeg ser,
Det lider alt frem,
Snart ar det ved hømessetide.
O, den, som en stund
Fik ønske sig hjem
Blandt folk,
Som paa kirkevej skride!
Naar solskiven stiger lidt,
saa den staar der midt
Over skaret i kammen,
Da ved jeg, i dalen
Klokkerne garr,
Da ringer fra taarnet
Det sammen.

Det nytter ej stort
At tage sin bog
Og synge i hejen sin salme;
Mit loft er for højt,
Og her er det dog,
Som tonerne blegne of falme.
O den, som i dag
Fik blande sin røst
Med hans og de øvriges stemme!
Gud give, at snart
Det lakked mod høst,
Gud give, jeg atter var hjemme!


I look at the sun,
It reveals all,
Soon it will be time for High Mass.
Oh, one, who for a moment
Wishes oneself home
Among people,
Who are going to church!
When the sun has risen a bit
So it stands right there
Over the gap in the crest of the mountain,
Then I know, in the valley
Church bells are ringing,
Then rings from the tower
The same.

It is of no use
To take one's book
And sing in the mountains one's psalms;
My ceiling is too high,
And here it is thus
That the tones grow pale and fade.
Oh, one, who today
Can blend her voice
With his* and the heavenly voices.
God grant, that soon
It draws near to autumn,
God grant, I once more will be home!



*her love's

Composer: Ole Bull
Poet: J. Moe

 

3. EFTER EN SOMMERFUGL(Chasing a Butterfly)
The butterfly almost gets caught, but you hear it fly away at the end.

Sommerfuglen min, med vingerne fine,
Røde og brune og røde og blaa,
Finder du da ingen af blomsterne dine?
Sommerfuglen min, med vingerne fine,
Sæt dig nu der paa det svaiende straa.
Sommerfuglen min,
Jeg vil ikke skræmme dig,
Vil bare naa dig,
Vil bare faa dig
Vil bare gjemme dig!
Der havde jeg dig næsten,
Og saa fløi du din vei.
Sommerfuglen min, med vingerne fine,
Røde og brune og røde og blaa,
Jeg vil ikke skræmme dig,
Vil bare naa dig,
Vil bare faa dig
Vil bare gjemme dig!
Butterfly mine, with pretty wings,
Red and brown and red and blue,
Can't you find any of your flowers?
Butterfly mine, with pretty wings,
Sit yourself down on the swaying straw,
Butterfly mine,
I don't want to frighten you,
Only want to reach you,
Only want to get you,
Only want to treasure you!
There, I almost had you,
And then you flew on your way.
Butterfly mine, with pretty wings,
Red and brown and red and blue,
I don't want to frighten you,
Only want to reach you,
Only want to get you,
Only want to treasure you!

This song is from the Song Cycle, "Mor Synger" (Mother sings)

Composer: Agathe Backer Grøndahl
Poet: Andreas Jynge

 

 

4. MOT KVELD (Towards Evening)


Alle de duggvaate blomster har sennt
Solen det sisste Godnat.
Sanktehansormen sin lykte har tænnt,
Sitter og lyser i krat,
Sommerfugl tat sine duggsokker paa,
Lagt sig til hvile i klokken, den blaa,
Drømmer saa deilig om solen,
Drømmer om duft av fiolen.
Sommerfugl tat sine duggsokker paa,
Lagt sig til hvile i klokken, den blaa,
Drømmer saa deilig om solen,
Drømmer, drømmer, om duft av fiolen.

All of the dew-drenched flowers have sent
Sun the last “Goodnight.”
Glowworm has lit his lamp;
He sits and rests in the thicket.
Butterfly has put dew slippers on
And gone to sleep in the bluebells,
Dreaming deliciously of the sun,
Dreaming of the violet's perfume.
Butterfly has put dew slippers on
And gone to sleep in the bluebells,
Dreaming deliciously of the sun,
Dreaming, dreaming, of the violet's perfume.

This song is from the Song Cycle, "Barnets Vaardag" (The Child's Spring Day)

Composer: Agathe Backer Grøndahl
Poet: Andreas Jynge

 

 

5. BARNDOMSMINE FRAA NORDLAND (Childhood Memories From the Northern Land)

This song beautifully expresses the longing felt by one who has left the beauty of Norway.

Å eg veit meg eit land
Langt der oppe mot nord,
Med ei lysande strand
Mellom høgfjell og fjord.
Der eg gjerne er gjest,
Der mitt hjarta er fest
Med dei finaste, finaste band.

Chorus:
/:Å eg minnest, å eg minnest,
Å eg minnest så vel dette land!:/

Og eg lengtar så tidt
Dette landet å sjå,
Og det dreg meg så blidt
Når eg langt er ifrå.
Med den vaknande vår
Vert min saknad så sår,
Så mest gråta,
Mest gråta eg kan.

Oh, I know of a land
Far away in the north,
With a shimmering strand
Between high mountains and fjords.
There I long to be a guest,
There my heart is fastened
With the finest, finest bands.

Chorus:
//:Oh, I remember, oh, I remember,
Oh, I remember so well this land! :/

And I so often long
To see this land,
And it pulls on me
When I am long away.
With the awakening spring
My longing becomes so sore,
That almost cry,
Almost cry I can.



Composer: Adolf Thomsen
Poet: Elias Blix

 

 

6. NIDELVEN (The Nid River)

This song tells of the memories of a lost love that come while walking by the Nid River which runs through the city of Trondheim.

Chorus:
/:Nidelven stille og vakker du er,
Her hvor jeg går og drømmer.
Drømmer om han* som jeg hadde så kjær,
Nu er det bare minner.
Den gamle bybro er lykkens portal,
Sammen vi seiler i stjernekorall.
Nidelven, stille og vakker du er,
Her hvor jeg går og drømmer. :/

Langt i det fjerne, bak fjellene blå,
Ligger et sted jeg har kjær.
Dit mine tanker og drømmer vil gå,
Alltid du er meg så nær.

Chorus:
/:Nid River still and beautiful you are,
Here where I go and dream.
Dreaming of him that I loved so dear,
Now it is only memories.
The old city bridge is happiness' portal,
Together we sail under the stars' corral.
Nid River still and beautiful you are,
Here where I go and dream. :/

Far in the distance behind mountains blue,
Lies a place I hold dear.
There my thoughts and my dreams will go,
Always, to me, you are near.

*The original words are “henne jeg hadde...” (she I had...). When sung by a woman, it can be changed as I sing it, or you can substitute “Drommer om deg ...” (Dreaming of you...”).
The original song starts with the words “Langt i det fjerne...” The wonderful arrangement on the CD, with its modulations, is by Walter Eriksson.

Composer: Chris Christensen
Poet: Oscar Hoddø

 

 

7. NAAR FJORDENE BLAANER (When the Fjords Become Blue)

This patriotic song is in three parts. The first section speaks of the beauty of Norway. The middle section asks for God to bless Norway, and the third part praises the strength of Norway's people.

Naar fjordene blaaner
Som markens fiol,
Og bræerne glittrer
I spillende sol,
Naar liljekonvallen
Ved foden af hæg
Staar duftende skjøn
Langs med klippernes væg,
Mens elven bag orkrattet
Danser sig vild,
Og trosten fra granlien
Synger dertil,
Da røres, da røres mit bryst,
Da blot hviske jeg kan:
Gud signe dig Norge,
Mit deilige land,
Gud signe dig Norge,
Mit deilige land,”:/
Men naar jeg ser folket,
Som rydder den jord,
Som virker paa fjeld
Og ved fiskerig fjord,
De tusinde mænd,
Som tilsjøs og tillands
I arbeidets sved
Vinder Norge en krans;
De tusinde kvinder,
Som yndig og tro
Med kjærlighed sysler
I hjemlivets bo,
Da svinger jeg hatten,
Da hjertet faar tolk:
Hurra for mit brave,
M it kraftige folk!
Hurra for mit folk,
For mit kraftige folk!

When the fjords become blue
As the meadow's violets,
And the glaciers glitter
In the playful sun,
When the lily-of-the-valley
By the foot of the hedge
Stands beautifully perfumed
By the cliff's wall,
While the river behind the wild tree grove
Dances wildly,
And the thrush from the pines
Sings along,
Then moved, then moved is my breast,
Then I can barely whisper:
/:God bless you Norway,
My wonderful land,
God bless you Norway,
My wonderful land.:/
But when I see the folk,
Who cleared this land,
Who work on the mountain
And the fish-rich fjord,
The thousands of men,
Who at sea and on land
In the work world
Win a wreath for Norway;
The thousands of women,
Who sweet and true
With love occupy themselves
In the home life's dwelling,
Then I swing my hat,
My heart gains understanding:
Hurrah, for my brave,
My mighty people!
Hurrah, for my people,
For my mighty people!





Composer: Alfred Paulsen
Poet: John Paulsen

 

 

8. ANNE KNUTSDATTER (Anne, Knut's Daughter)

This folksong tells the story of a girl who lives on a small farm with her hard-working parents, her worthless little brother, and a variety of animals.

Jeg heter Anne Knutsdatter,
Kari er min mor,
Og Truls han er min bror.
Vi har en liden plads,
Hvor ingen skulde tro,
At nogen kunde bo.
Og pladsen heter Uren, Luren,
Himmelturen, Steinröis, Steinröis, Sveltihel!

Ja pladsen ligger höit,
Höit oppe i en ur,
Tett under fjellets mur,
Og det er just så vidt,
At vi på simpel vis
Kan for' to kyr og gris.
Og kyra heter Dagros, Fagros, gamle Fagros,
Grisen heter Giss, Giss, Giss!

Om somren er det moro
Og gå og plukke bær
I munn og neverkopp.
På stuetaket vokser
To unge heggetrær,
Som gjyten tygger op.
Og gjyten heter Snyggen, Styggen, Lurveryggen,
Höna heter Tipp, Tipp, Tipp!

Og far han er en kramkar,
Han strever flittig nok og reiser vidt omkring;
Og mor hun passer huset,
Jeg spinner på min rokk,
Men Truls gjör ingen ting.
Men höna heter Tipp, Tipp, Tipp,
Og grisen heter Giss, Giss, Giss,
Og kyra heter Dagros, og gamle, gamle Fagros,
Og gjyten heter Snyggen;
Og plassen heter Uren, Luren,
Himmelturen, Steinröis, Steinröis, Sveltihel!

My name is Anne Knut's daughter,
Kari is my mother,
And Truls, he is my brother.
We have a little place,
Where no one would believe,
That anyone could live.
And the place is named Rockslope, Trickster,
Heavenlytrip, Rockfall, Rockfall, Starve to Death!

Yes, the place lies high,
High up in a rock-strewn slope,
Right under the mountain's wall,
And it is barely,
That we, in a simple way
Can feed two: cow and pig.
And the cow is named Dagros, Fagros, old Fagros,
The pig is named Giss, Giss, Giss!

During summer it is fun
To go and pick berries
In your mouth and hand-cup.
On the cabin roof grow
Two young trees,
That the goat eats up.
And the goat is named Snyggen, Styggen, Lurveryggen,
The hen is named Tipp, Tipp, Tipp!

And father is a peddler,
Who works hard enough and travels all around;
And mother takes care of the house,
I spin on my spinning wheel,
But Truls does nothing.
But the hen is named Tipp, Tipp, Tipp,
And the pig is named Giss, Giss, Giss,
And the cow is named Dagros, and old, old Fagros,
And the goat is named Snyggen;
And the place is called Rockslope, Trickster,
Heavenlytrip, Rockfall, Rockfall, Starve to Death!





Folksong, arranged by: Eyvind Alnæs

 

 

9.CUCKOO

I learned this folksong at a Girl Scout camp in Norway when I was a girl. I translated it many years later, when I was a Girl Scout Leader in Baldwin, New York. Since the translation is on the CD, I won't bother with it here. The version I know is from Lista in Sørlandet, the southern part of Norway, as it was sung in the middle of the 20th century.

 

 

 

 

10. VI SKAL IKKJE SOVA BURT SUMARNATTA
(We Shall Not Sleep Away the Summer Night)

Vi skal ikkje sova burt sumarnatta;
Ho er for ljos til det.
Då skal vi vandra i saman ute
Under dei lauvtunge tre,
Under dei lauvtunge tre.

Vi skal ikkje sova frå høysåteangen
Og grashoppespelet i eng,
Men vandra i lag under
Bleikblå himlen
Til fuglane lyfter veng.
Til fuglane lyfter veng.

Og kjenne at vi er i slekt med jorda,
Med vinden og kvite sky,
Og vita at vi skal vera i saman
Like til morgongry.
Like til morgongry.

We shall not sleep away the summer night;
She is too light for that.
Then shall we wander together out
Under the leaf-heavy trees,
Under the leaf-heavy trees.

We shall not sleep away from the hay-sown field
And the grasshopper's play in the meadow,
But wander together under
Pale blue heavens
'Til the birds lift their wings.
'Til the birds lift their wings.

And feel that we are kin with the earth,
With the wind and white clouds,
And know that we shall be together
Until the morning's dawn.
Until the morning's dawn.

Composer: Geirr Tveitt
Poet: Aslaug Låstad Lygre

Dick and I learned this beautiful song from a dear friend of ours, Rev. Lars Erik Espeland, when he was a Seamen's Minister in the Norwegian Seamen's Church in Brooklyn, New York.

 

 

11. SYNNØVES SANG (Synnøve's Song)

This song achingly shows the despair of unrequited love.

Nu Tak for Alt
Ifra vi var smaa
Og legte sammen
I Skog og Lage.
Jeg tænkte,
Legen den skulde gaa
Op i de
G raanende Dage.

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 Kvæld
Og saa did bort under
Granehejen;
Men skygge gjorde
Det mørke Fjæld,
Og du, du fandt
Ikke Vejen.

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.

I sat and waited
So many nights
And looked out there under
The pine hill;
But shadows made
The mountain dark,
And you, you didn't find
The way.

Composer: Halfdan Kjerulf
Poet: Bj. Bjørnson

This song is from the music that Kjerulf wrote for Bjørnson's “Synnøve Solbakken.” The directions to the singer at the beginning of the song, on the “Ahs” are: “She is humming to herself and at the same time sighing.”

In the lyrics, all of the nouns were capitalized. I have reproduced it here as it is in the music.

 

 

12. VED RONDERNE (By the Ronderne Mountains)

“Ved Ronderne” expresses the emotions felt upon returning to one's childhood home. Not surprisingly, in the United States, I have found this to be one of Edvard Grieg's most popular songs.

No ser eg atter slike Fjell og Dalar,
Som deim eg i min förste Ungdom såg,
Og sama Vind den heite Panna svalar;
Og Gullet ligg pa Snjo, som för det låg.
Det er eit Barnemål, som til meg taler,
Og gjer meg tankefull, men endå fjåg.
Med Ungdomsminne er den Tala blandad;
Det ströymer på meg, so eg knapt kan anda.

Ja, Livet ströymer på meg, som det ströymde,
Når under Snjo eg såg det gröne Strå.
Eg dröymer no, som för eg altid dröymde,
Når slike Fjell eg såg i Lufti blå.
Eg glöymer Dagsens Strid, som för eg glöymde,
Når eg mot Kveld af Sol eit Glimt fekk sjå.
Eg finner vel eit Hus, som vil meg hysa,
Når Soli heim til Notti vil meg lysa.

Now I see the same mountains and valleys,
As those I, in my young childhood, saw,
And the same wind cools my heated brow,
And gold lies on the snow, as before it lay.
There is a childlike voice, which speaks to me,
And makes me thoughtful, but still full of joy.
With childhood memories is this speech blended;
It streams over me, so I can barely understand.

Yes, life streams over me, as it streamed,
When under the snow I saw the green straw.
I dream now, as once I always dreamed,
When such mountains I saw in the blue air.
I forget the day's stress, as once I forgot it,
When I, towards night, a glimmer of sun did see.
I will well find a house, that will shelter me,
As the sun, home for the night, will light my way.




Composer: Edvard Grieg
Poet: A. O. Vinje

I have seen this song's name written as “Ved Rundarne” and “Ved Ronderne.” I imagine one is Landsmaal, and one is Riksmaal. I would appreciate it if anyone could enlighten me on which is the original spelling that Vinje used. I have three editions of this song, and the spelling differs in all three of them! One is in Riksmaal, so I never use it. (Vinje wrote it in Landsmaal for a reason!) The two that are in Landsmaal have the same words, but they are spelled differently. The older music uses the “ö” where the newer copy uses “ø.” The older music also uses “å” where the newer copy uses “aa.” Is the newer copy Nynorsk? I would appreciate your input. I am always interested in learning more about the Norwegian language, and in passing information on to other Norwegian-Americans.

 

 

13. DEN STORE, HVIDE FLOK (The Great, White Host)

In the United States, this hymn is know as “Behold the Hosts Arrayed in White.” The words are taken from the Book of Revelations, Chapter 7.

Den store, hvide flok vi se,
Som tusen berge ful av sne,
Med skov omkring av palmesving,
For tronen. Hvo er det?

Det er den helteskare som
Av hin den store trengsel kom
Og har seg todd i Lammets blod
Til himlens helligdom.

Der holder de nå kirkegang
Med uopphørlig jubelklang
I høye kor hvor Gud han bor
Blant alle englers sang.

The great, white host we see,
As a thousand mountains full of snow,
With a forest around of waving palms,
Before the throne. Who are they?

It is the multitude that
Has through the great tribulation come
And washed themselves in the Lamb's blood
For heaven's holiness.

There they now go to church
With unheard-of jubilation
In the high choir where God abides
Amidst all of the angels' songs.

Norwegian Folksong, arranged by: Edvard Grieg, adapted by: Richard Feingold
Poet: Hans Adolph Brorson

This beautiful melody is a Norwegian folksong. The arrangement of it on the CD is an adaptation that my husband made of Edvard Grieg's arrangement for soprano soloist and male choir. I sang that arrangement many times with the Færder Singers of Brooklyn, New York. This song is very dear to my heart; I sang it at both my father's and my mother's funerals. Edvard Grieg requested that "Den Store, Hvide Flok" be sung at his own funeral.

Since the CD was produced, I have found a copy of “Den Store Hvide Flok” which lists Hans Adolph Brorson as the poet who adapted the words from the Book of Revelations to fit this melody.

 

 

14.TYTEBERET (The Cranberry)

This is an allegory. The moral is that, just as a cranberry has not fulfilled its destiny until it has given its blood for others to drink, so a man is not truly “ripe” until he is ready to give himself for others.

Tyteberet uppå Tuva
Voks ut af ei liten Von.
Skogen med si gröne Huva
Fostrar mangein raudleitt Son.
Eingong seint om Hausten
Lagde liten Svein til Berg Skogs ut:
“Raudt eg lyser,” Beret sagde,
“Kom åt meg, du Vesle Gut.
Her ifrå du må meg taka:
Mogjet Ber er utan Ro.
Mal meg sundt, at du kan smaka
Svaledrykken af mit Blod!
Svaledrykken af mit Blod!
Mognar du, so vil du beda
Just den sama Bön, som eg.
Mogjen Mann det mest må gleda,
Burt for Folk at gjeva seg,
Burt for Folk at gjeva seg,
Burt for Folk at gjeva seg.”
Cranberry on its hummock
Grows out of a small pond.
Forest, with its green cap,
Fosters many a red-cheeked son.
One time, late in the autumn,
Little Svein went out to the mountain wood:
“Red I shine,” the berry said,
“Come to me, you little boy.
Away from here you must take me:
A ripe berry has no peace.
Crush me, so you can taste
The swallow drink of my blood!
The swallow drink of my blood!
If you ripen, you will pray
Just the same prayer, as I.
The ripe man is the most glad
To give himself for others,
To give himself for others,
To give himself for others.”

Composer: Edvard Grieg
Poet: A. O. Vinje

I can no longer sing this song without thinking of John Paolillo. He was an usher in my church, and a New York City Deputy Fire Chief. On 9/11/01, he and his men went up into the inferno of the World Trade Center while most were rushing down. They went up over 70 stories, rescuing people. Finally, he sent his men down with survivors, saying that he would go up to the next floor, just in case there was anyone there still alive. His men made it out; he did not. He left a widow and two young children. He was a “ripe” man who dedicated his life to helping others. God bless his memory.

 

 

15.SOLVEIGS SANG (Solveig's Song)

This song was written by Grieg for Ibsen's play, “Per Gynt.” In it, Solveig, who has been abandoned by Per Gynt, sings that she will wait for him, just as she promised. If he awaits her in heaven, then she will meet him there.

Kanske vil der gaa
Baade vinter og vaar,
Baade vinter og vaar
Og næster sommer med,
Og det hele aar,
Og det hele aar,
Men engang vil du komme,
Det ved jeg vist,
Det ved jeg vist,
Og jeg skal nok vente,
For det lovte jeg sidst,
Det lovte jeg sidst.

Gud styrke dig,
hvor du i verden gaar,
I verden garr,
Gud glæde dig, hvis du
For hans fodskammel staar,
For hans fodskammel staar.
Her skal jeg vente
Til du kommer igjen,
Du kommer igjen;
Og venter du hist oppe,
Vi træffes der, min ven,
Vi træffes der, min ven.

Perhaps there will go
Both winter and spring,
Both winter and spring,
And next summer also,
And the whole year,
And the whole year,
But onetime you will come,
I know this for sure,
I know this for sure,
And I shall surely wait,
For I promised that last,
I promised that last.

God strengthen you,
Where you go in the world,
You go in the world,
God give you joy if you
Before his footstool stand,
Before his footstool stand.
Here shall I wait
Until you come again,
You come again;
And if you wait above,
We'll meet there again, my friend,
We'll meet there again, my friend.

Composer: Edvard Grieg
Poet: Henrik Ibsen

 

 

16. JEG ELSKER DIG (I Love You)

The poem, set to music by Norwegian composer, Edvard Grieg, is said to have been written by a Dane, Hans Christian Andersen, to express his love for the Swedish soprano, Jenny Lind. She rejected him. It is the perfect pan-Scandinavian song! Of course, another story is that Edvard and his fiancé, Nina, were close friends with H. C. Andersen, and Edvard gave Nina this song, set to his friend's poem, as an engagement present. Believe what you like, it is a wonderful song!

Min tankes tanke
Ene du er vorden,
Du er mit hjertes første kjærlighed,
Jeg elsker dig,
Som ingen her paa jorden,
Jeg elsker dig,
Jeg elsker dig,
Jeg elsker dig i tid og evighed,
eg elsker dig i tid og evighed,
My thought of thoughts
Are only of you,
You are my heart's first love,
I love you,
As none other on Earth,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you through time and eternity,
I love you through time and eternity.

Composer: Edvard Grieg
Poet: Hans Christian Andersen

 

 

17. EN DRØM (A Dream)

This gorgeous song tells of passionate love in the woods where a dream becomes a reality. The poetry, the melody, and the accompaniment are all wonderful. This is, perhaps, my favorite song.

Jeg saa en Gang i Drømmesyn
En dejlig Mø saa fin og skær;
Vi sad i Skovens lyse Bryn
Imellem Vaarens unge Trær.
Og Knoppen brast
Og Elven sprang,
Den fjærne Landsbys Larm og Lyd
Indtil os i vor Løvsal klang,
Hvor vi sad gemt i salig Fryd.
Men meget mer end Drømmesyn
Blev Livet selv en dejlig Dag.
Det var i Skovens lyse Bryn
Og under Vaarens lette Tag.
Og Elven sprang,
Og Knoppen brast,
Og alt var fjærnt,
Kun du var nær;
Og ved min Barm
Jeg holdt dig fast
Nu slipper jeg dig aldrig mer!
Aldrig mer! Aldrig mer!
O Mødestund i Skovens Bryn,
Med Vaarens lyse, lette Tag!
Der blev min Dag et Drømmesyn,
Der blev min Drøm en dejlig Dag.
I saw once in a vision
A beautiful maid, so fine and dear;
We sat in the forest's light glade
Among Spring's young trees.
And the buds burst
And the river ran,
The distant village's noises
Came into our leafy bower,
Where we sat hidden in blessed peace.
But much more than a vision
Life itself became a wonderful day.
It was in the forest's light glade
And under Spring's airy canopy.
And the river ran,
And the buds burst,
And all was wonderful
For you were near;
And with my embrace
I held you fast
Now I will never let you go!
Never! Never!
Oh, moment of meeting in the forest's glade,
With Spring's light, airy canopy!
There my day became a vision,
There my dream became a wonderful day.

Composer: Edvard Grieg
Poet: Friedrich Martin von Bodenstedt