Paroles et traduction Helge Borglund - Burobengens Tragiske Møte

Burobengens Tragiske Møte

Vil du lytte til min vise, vil du lytte til mitt ord
Ned i Setesdalens gårder der jeg har min far og mor
Vil du lytte til min vise, jeg for deg vil tala sant
I min vise får du høre hvordan jeg er bleven fant
Fader min han var en riking og jeg var hans enda sønn
At jeg skulle blive mektig det var far og mor en drøm
Skoler har jeg gjennompløyet for de ville ha meg frem
Meningen det var med dette at jeg skulle arve dem
Så en kveld litt ut på høsten kom det inn en fanteferd
Kniver hadde de i beltet like lange som et sverd
Hør nå på meg hva jeg siger dattera deres hun var fin
Og jeg tenkte i mitt indre: Denne jenta skal bli min
Arveløs jeg ble av fader og forlatt jeg ble av mor
Men til Anna, taterjenta måtte jeg dog holde ord
Jeg oppriktig elsket jenta, jeg for deg vil tala sant
I min vise får du høre hvordan jeg er bleven fant
Men det livet passet ikke for mitt lodd jeg snart fikk se
Alltid lød det: Bondegutten, aldri lot de meg i fred
For jeg var ei som de andre jeg var født av en burobeng
Og jeg kunne aldri lære livets frie fantesleng
Så en kveld på Gjøvikmarken kom jeg opp i sådant lag
Kolde ord og kolde blikke alle bar de til meg nag
Burobengen de meg kalte, bondeblodet kom i kok
Hurtig griper jeg til kniven, i hans belsin jeg den jog
Nå skal dessa kara høre at med hugget fulgte drap
Jeg skal slettes ikke nekte, det ble altfor stort blodtap
Jeg tok kniven, holdt i skaftet, kjørte hele bladet inn
Siden har jeg aldri hatt det at med den å fara fint
Nå må jeg her sitt i fengslet, jeg har fått så mange år
Men å skrive hjem til gården det nok aldri for meg står
Og når andre fader spørger hvordan det er gått med meg
Hører jeg at far min svarer: Han er fant på landevei

The Tragic Encounter at the Burobeng

If you will listen to my song, if you will listen to my word
Down in the Setesdal farmsteads where I have my father and mother
If you will listen to my song, I will tell you the truth
In my song you will hear how I became a vagrant
My father was a rich man and I was his only son
That I should become powerful was my father's and mother's dream
I have plowed through schools for they wanted me to succeed
The meaning of this was that I should inherit them
Then one evening in the autumn a band of vagrants came
They had knives in their belts as long as a sword
Now listen to what I say, their daughter was beautiful
And I thought to myself: This girl shall be mine
I was disinherited by my father and abandoned by my mother
But to Anna, the gypsy girl, I had to keep my word
I truly loved the girl, I will tell you the truth
In my song you will hear how I became a vagrant
But that life did not suit my lot, I soon realized
Always the cries: "Farm boy," they never left me in peace
For I was not like the others, I was born of a Burobeng
And I could never learn the free vagrant's ways
Then one evening at Gjøvikmarken I found myself in such a party
Cold words and cold glances, they all bore me a grudge
Burobeng they called me, my peasant blood boiled
Quickly I seize the knife, into his belt I plunge it
Now these guys will hear that the blow was deadly
I will not deny it at all, it was too much blood loss
I took the knife, held it by the handle, drove the whole blade in
Since then I have never been able to handle it so well
Now I must sit here in prison, I have been given so many years
But to write home to the farm, that is never for me
And when other fathers ask how I am doing
I hear my father answer: He is a vagrant on the highway