THE SOUL’S GLIMPSE OF THE SUN
Lørdag 23. april 2022: THE SOUL’S GLIMPSE OF THE SUN (Sang nr 232 på 232 dager)
Tekst: Henrik Ibsen (oversatt til engelsk av John Northam)
Melodi og arrangement: Harald
Samarbeidet mellom meg og Henrik fungerer utmerket. Dette er vår tredje sang. Henrik er kjempefornøyd! Det er jeg også!
THE SOUL’S GLIMPSE OF THE SUN
The soul’s glimpse of the sun
the pang of desire
My ideal set on fire
The soul’s glimpse of the sun
O my heart is so stirred!
The same voice I have heard
That I know from my reverie-land,
When I, slumbering light
In the glimmering night,
Heard the whisper of waves on the strand!
1
Fresh delusion for me? .
Must the visions all flee .
And become merely fantoms again,
1
When that gush of delight
From sheer ecstasy.s height
Fades away in a dying refrain? .
THE SOUL’S GLIMPSE OF THE SUN +++
And the pang of desire
My ideal set on fire
In the depths of my aspirant breast
From a wild, blazing flame
All-devouring, became
A sweet warmth, o so calm and unstressed
Fresh delusion for me? .
Must the visions all flee
And become merely fantoms again,
When that gush of delight
From sheer ecstasy.s height
Fades away in a dying refrain? .
The soul’s glimpse of the sun
the pang of desire
My ideal set on fire
The soul’s glimpse of the sun
……………………………………………………
HENRIK HADDE SELVFØLGELIG SKREVET FLERE VERS ENN JEG FIKK BRUK FOR:
THE SOUL’S GLIMPSE OF THE SUN (oversatt til engelsk av John Northam)
I have seen now the gaze
That my soul-bride displays
In the fictions love weaves in my dreams!
Through the depths of my soul
Like a hurricane roll
My presentiments. quivering streams!
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Though o.erclouded and dark
My soul cheered to a spark
Unlike summertime.s sun that takes toll
When it glows all too near, .
No, like stars shining clear
When they glint from the uttermost Pole! .
In my soul it was day; .
Then I felt no dismay,
Nor sharp anguish.s venom-dipped sword.
A mere second in time
Yet that moment sublime
Was worth more than Eternity.s hoard! . . .
Fresh delusion for me? .
Must the visions all flee .
And become merely fantoms again,
When that gush of delight
From sheer ecstasy.s height
Fades away in a dying refrain? .
. . . . . . . . . . .
O, with Memory.s trove
Future.s night I shall rove
All a-swoon upon Reverie.s wave, .
Till I weary descend
To seek peace at the end
In the quiet, the cool of the grave! . . .