Текст и перевод песни Edvard Grieg, Barbara Bonney & Antonio Pappano - Våren (Last Spring), Op.33, No.2

Våren (Last Spring), Op.33, No.2

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.

Våren (Last Spring), Op.33, No.2

Once again, Winter gave me a respite, for Spring to blossom;
The hawthorn with trees, where there were once blossoms, I saw in bloom again.
Once again, I saw the ice flow away from the land,
The snow melting, and the waterfall in the river gushing and breaking.
The green grass, once again,
I saw it decked with flowers [I say hello]1
Once again, I heard the spring bird sing towards the sun and towards summer.
[Once again, I received that blessing, that I heard the cuckoo,
Once again, I walked out into the field, where they drove the plow.
Once again, I was able to bask in the warmth of the air and the meadow;
To see the earth, as with a longing bosom, sighing in its bed.
Spring clouds playing there, to and fro, and cloud banks curling,
So out of the bank, Tora took to striking and clawing and rolling.
The goat ram still granted me to see it dance on the spring hill.
Butterflies fluttering and flying away, where flowers were wreathed.
All this spring life, I saw again, which I have since lost.
But I am heavy-hearted and must ask myself: is this the last?
Let it be so: I have enjoyed much beauty in life.
I have received more than I deserved, and everything must come to an end.]1
One day I myself, in that spring-like scent, which fills my eyes,
One day I will find a home there, and bathe in it.
All that spring brought to meet me, and the flowers I plucked,
I believed they were the spirits of my ancestors, who danced and sighed.
Therefore, I found a mystery among the birches and trees in the spring;
Therefore, the sound in the flute I carved seemed to me to weep.