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!

 

14

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! . . .