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II: Norwegian
Lyng og Blod
(Heather and Blood)
This set is meant to reflect that I study Norwegian and also like creepy things. The reason I call it Heather and Blood is that, if you look at the translations, you’ll see that two of the songs discuss or mention blood, and two mention heather. These songs come from a compilation entitled Shadow Songs; they’re all songs written by composers who, though writing in the same time period as Edvard Grieg, were never popular. But they write some pretty cool music, so listen up.
I: Du kjæler for mit hjerte
Hjalmar Borgstrøm, text. Murad Efendi/Franz von Werner
The text to this piece, by a German writer, is full of naturalist references and romantic languishing. The poem is from the perspective of a lovelorn person imploring the one they love to keep being with them and to keep being beautiful and perfect, even though it does nothing but wound them more and more deeply. Essentially, it says “my pain makes me beautiful, so I will keep loving you, despite the horror of it all”. Pretty bleak.
Du kjæler for mit hjerte ømt
Du vil dets vaande lindre,
Og øker bare al den ve
Som du har ment at hindre
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Den gamle vunde rives opp
Og blodet fra den strømmer.
Jeg takker dig, velsigner dig,
I hjerteblod blomster svømmer
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Lad blodet flyde kjære barn
Ti jeg vil blomster plukke,
Og pryde dig dit gyldne hår
Til dødens sidste sukke.
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You caress my heart tenderly,
You wish to ease the pain,
And you only increase it all,
That which you meant to hinder.
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The old wound reopens,
And blood streams from it.
I thank you, I bless you,
In my heart-blood flowers swim
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Let the blood flow, dear one
Until I will pick the flowers,
And decorate your golden hair
Until death's last sigh.
trans. Thea Lund
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II: Humoreske
Ole Olsen, text. Bjørnstjerne Bjørnsen
This song seems to be based on a cautionary tale. Though I don’t know for certain, I see the fox as an allegory for an unsavory character and the hare as an allegory for an innocent young person, probably a woman. The interludes are from the perspective of the hare, who is jubilant, but the fox is lying in wait. It’s a little foreboding, like most romantic Norwegian poetry. What do you think?
Og reven lå under birkerot
Bort ved lynget.
Og haren hoppet på lette fot
Over lynget.
Det er vel noe til solskinnsdag,
Det glitrer for og det glitrer bak
Over lynget!
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Og reven lo under birkerot
Bort ved lynget.
Og haren hoppet i ville mot
Over lynget.
Jeg er så glad over alle ting!
Hu hei! Gjør du slike svære spring
Over lynget?
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Og reven ventet bak birkerot
Bort ved lynget.
Og haren tumlet han midt imot
Over lynget!
Men Gud forbarme seg! Er du der?
Og kjære, hvor tør du danse her
Over lynget?
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And the fox lay under the birch root
By the heather.
And the hare hopped on light foot
Over the heather.
Oh, what a sunny day,
The sun in shining everywhere!
Over the heather!
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And the fox laughed under the birch root
By the heather.
And the hare hopped at a wild speed
Over the heather.
I'm so happy about everything!
Hu hei! Can you jump so far
Over the heather?
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And the fox waited behind the birch root
By the heather.
And the hare tumbled right into him
Over the heather!
Lord have mercy! Are you there?
Oh dear one, how can you dare dance here
Over the heather?
trans. Thea Lund
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III: Lyng
Hjalmar Borgstrøm, text. Nils Collett Vogt
This song captures a feeling of triumph over the distaste and cruelty of others. As I like to see it, the narrator is walking along the wild Norwegian mountainside, manically and beautifully humming because they've finally found a way to feel free, and to bloom magnificently despite the rain and chill of the world. It is one of my favorite on the program.
Er så forunderlig glad i kvæld
At jeg går her og nynner med dæmpet røst,
For jeg er lyng på uryddig fjeld
Som flammer hedest mod regn og høst,
Det er mig som blomstrer!
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I sagde mig ondt paa
I rakked mig til
Men om mig, i venner, hvad helst i vil!
Det er mig som blomstrer!
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Af blod der vælder fra dybet opp,
Rødmer det nu i lyngens topp!
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Forunderlig hvor jeg er glad i kvæld!
Så bærende lett!
Ikke ved jeg selv hvorfor jeg blomster!
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Og graved med tanken jeg tidt min grav.
Nu skyller derover et blomsterhav,
For lyngen den gror på fjeldet!
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I am so peculiarly happy tonight
That I'm walking here and humming in a dim voice,
For I am heather on the wild mountain
That grows most strongly against rain and autumn,
It is I who is blooming!
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You spoke ill of me,
I dragged me through the mud,
But of me, all you friends, say whatever you like!
It is I who is blooming!
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Blood streams up from the deep,
Makes the heather blush red at the top!
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Peculiar how happy I am tonight!
So light to bear!
I don't know myself why I am blooming!
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And so often I dig my grave with my thoughts.
Now a flower garden is covering it,
For the heather grows on the mountain!
trans. Thea Lund
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