FRÖDING, Gustaf
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Våg, våg, slå, I sägen mig hvar Ingalill den unga månde gå?
när hon sjönk i sjön, Det var när sista vår stod grön. De voro henne gramse vid Östanålid, Det tog hon sig så illa vid. De voro henne gramse för gods och gull Och för hennes unga kärleks skull. De stucko en ögonsten med tagg, De kastade smuts i en liljas dagg.
I sorgsna vågor små, Säf, säf, susa, Våg, våg, slå! |
Wave, wave, play, You tell me where Ingalill, The young one, may go?
when she sank in the lake, It was, when the last Spring was green. They spent their wrath on her at Östanlid. For which she felt ill at ease. They spent their wrath on her for goods and for gold And for the sake of her young love. They stuck a gemstone with a thorn, They threw dirt in the dew of a lily.
Ye sorrowful little waves, Reed, reed, rustle, Wave, wave, play!
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The dreamer of dreams /
Si drömmaren kommer där
The dreamer of dreams comes there
With head bowed down and thoughtful air.
On lonely paths he delights to walk
that take him away from us and our talk.
For him the Sun bows down, in his dreams,
and stars and moon — the dreams blasphemes.
He is our father's dearest son
come, let us slay him, come
A song to Carin from King Erik in the prison / En visa till Karin ur fängelset
Mete me not with measures,
guage me not with tools.
A fool I'm grown,
a fool among fools.
Vast and beautiful realms
and a people sincere
made me great as king,
I was emperors' peer.
A wreck is my kingdom
and shattered my throne,
in the dark, cruel prison
for my crimes I atone.
Friends I had and kinsmen
who defended my lands;
the blood of friends and kinsmen
now sullies my hands.
For my crown and my honour
my people fought well;
in reward for their faith
they in misery dwell.
Daughters of my people,
beautiful and chaste,
I sent from my castle
ravished and disgraced.
Last I reached for thee
to be my latest cheer
sacking life of spring
to give the dying year.
Many bitter tears o'er me
thou hast spilt,
mete me not with measures,
forgive me my guilt.
Translation: Albert Björck
King Erik's song to Carin
(When she had been dancing before him.) / En visa till Karin när hon hade dansat
Of noble flowers will I bind
a wreath around my loved one's hair;
a wreath of memory's roses twined
for thee in older days to wear.
And with my hands I will it sling
around my loved one's head so dear;
around thy gray hairs shall it cling
in times when I'm no longer here.
So lithe and graceful does she glide
my well beloved, but is not gay
— so in my wreath a thorn does hide
and wounds, brings sorrow and dismay.
A blood-drop falls from thorn in wreath,
on my beloved's head a stain
— so is in all I give beneath
the gift a curse; my wreath brings pain.
Translation: Albert Björck