Miscellaneous Translations
These are mostly short translations that don’t really fit elsewhere. The translations are my own work.
Ljóðaúrval
Recently, I have been reading more in Icelandic, and delving into the work of Jónas Hallgrímsson. I have included below some translations of his poems I have done, and I hope to add more of them in the future – as far as I know, since more than 70 years have passed since the death of Hallgrímsson (1845), these works are in the public domain, and I am free to reproduce the original Icelandic texts here.
Hví viltu, andsvala
Skáldið:
(í spanska sjónum)
Hví viltu, andsvala
austankul,
svo á segli vaka?
hví viltu meina
mér að sjá
Dofra sólhávu sali?
Hví viltu meina
manni sjóleiðum
hæðir Herthu lita?
Dökkt er á djúpi,
dimmar öldur rísa,
mig langar landsýn í.
Vindurinn:
Vegu bláa
vestur um haf
hleyp ég himinborinn
þangað sem Garðars
gamla ey
há úr hafi rís.
Langar mig þar
um ljósan tind
gullnu skýi skauta
og í djúpum
dal að kyssa
mundarfagra mey.
Svo á ég heiti
sem ég um heiminn fer
allan ýmsa vegu.
Næðingur kem ég að norðan,
næturkul að austan,
vorgola að sunnan,
vestan hafræna.
Skaldið:
Heyr þú, hafræna
in himinborna,
flýt þér Fróns úr dölum,
kysstu samt fyrst
og kossinn færðu
mér frá dalanna dætrum.
Why Do You Yearn, O Cold One
The poet:
(on the Norwegian Sea)
Why do you yearn, O Cold One,
you easterly breeze,
so as to awaken these sails?
Why do you mean
to make me watch
how Dovre glitters so?
Why have you destined me
to be shown the route
across the sea and to Sjælland?
These depths are so dark
and murky waves rise so high,
that I sorely miss the sight of land.
The Wind:
On these navy roads
west across the sea
I am made to run,
carried by the sky,
thither, to where Iceland
rises mightily out of the sea.
It is where I long to
skate on gilded clouds
amongst the bright peaks,
and in the depth
of the valleys, to kiss
a lady’s fair hand.
And so I am destined
to roam the world
in all of these many ways.
Leisurely, I amble northwards,
the night’s breeze to the east,
the spring’s draft to the south,
the gust of the ocean to the west.
The poet:
Hear, hear, Wind,
who is sky-borne:
hurry out of Iceland’s valleys,
but first surely kiss
and bring me the kisses
of the valleys’ ladies.
In aquilonem nocturnem
Þegi þú, vindur!
þú kunnir aldregi
hófs á hvers manns hag,
langar eru nætur
þars þú inn leiðsvali
þýtur í þakstráum.
To the North Wind of the Night*
Quiet yourself, wind!
You never knew
restraint for all folks’ sake;
long are the nights
where you coldly and tiresomely
whistle through thatched roofs.
*The title for this poem is originally in Latin, not Icelandic.
Steel Rails (Nynorsk)
This is a translation into Nynorsk of the first verse of Louisa Branscomb’s song Steel Rails, first popularized by Allison Krauss. I hope at some point to expand the translation for the whole song. The translation into Nynorsk is made to fit into the same verse structure as the original, so it is not entirely literal (i.e. it could still be sung to the same tune). The rhyming structure, however, is different.
Steel Rails
It’s not the first time
I’ve found myself alone at dawn—
if I really had you once,
then I’d have you when I’m gone.
Whistle blowing,
blowing lonesome in my mind,
calling me along
that never-ending metal line.
Stålskjener
Det e’kje fyrste fall
eg var einsam ein morgon, kald—
om eg ærleg var din då,
ville eg bli din heimanfrå.
Pipa plystrar,
plystrar einsamt i mitt sinn,
ho ber meg fylgje med
og kjenne vinden på mitt kinn.
Å bån og veslegut (I Am But a Little Child)
This is a translation into English verse of an old poem by Jørund Telnes, an author and poet from Telemark. It is written neither in Nynorsk or Bokmål (then Landsmaal and Riksmaal), but in a dialect from Telemark. Below is what is originally given for the lyrics, and then a modified version to better reflect the pronunciation of singers Odd Nordstoga and Ingebjørg Bratland (themselves both from Telemark) in their recorded version, set to music, from 2013. A contemporary Nynorsk explanation of the dialectal words in this poem can be found here.
Though the original is mostly written as pronounced in dialectal forms, the regular A-A-B-B-A rhyming structure in each verse may help to give some further insight into pronunciation. In verse 4, the ‘A’ rhyming scheme is fjør, ber, der. Ber and der do rhyme, if they are both pronounced with a long é, /e:/. This pronunciation is common in many dialects for der, contrary to the Urban East Norwegian pronunciation of /æ:/. Fjør, however, clearly does not rhyme, having the vowel /ø:/. Given the existence of Swedish fjäder and Danish fjeder/fjer, it is possible that Telnes intended for it to be pronounced fjér, and indeed pronounced it this way himself, to rhyme with ber and der, but instead wrote it as fjør.
Likewise, verse 3’s ‘A’ rhyming scheme is renn, kvenn, fin, the first two being pronounced with short è, /ɛ/, and the last being pronounced with a long, open í, /i:/. There are two real possibilities I see here, without knowing for certain how Telnes would have pronounced them to rhyme. First, it might be that the vowel in fin has lowered, as did happen with a lot of Old Norse words evolving into Norwegian dialects, for instance boge “bow” from Old Norse bogi. So, then, fin, might have been pronounced fèn, with /ɛ:/ or /ɛ/, so that they all rhyme.
Conversely, it might be that renn and kvenn have raised to something like /ɪ/, and fin lowered from /i:/ to /ɪ:/, so that they all rhyme. This might be due to a collapse of historical short but mid-close /e/ with short but close-mid /ɪ/. This is supported by the fact that renn probably comes from Old Norse rinn, with /i/ or /ɪ/, which later became renn. So, then, fin is fìn, renn is rìnn, and kvenn is kvìnn, all with /ɪ/ or /ɪ:/, so that the rhyming scheme is restored. I considered the possibility that renn and kvenn might have raised further to /i:/, without fin lowering, but I think that this is unlikely given the source of kvenn, Old Norse kvern, which has a clear short /ɛ/. Raising of /ɛ/ to /i:/ is, as far as I’m aware, incredibly unlikely in the development of Old Norse into contemporaneous Norwegian dialects.
Å bån og veslegut (original)
Å bån og veslegut heiter eg
og pil og boge hev eg med meg.
Kom reven raue,
no skò du daue,
no skyt eg deg.
Å rev du slett alli tenkje må
at du meg lombi skò stela frå.
Kjem du i skogen,
eg skyt med bogen,
skò du få sjå.
Burtafor stoga ein bekk der renn,
der set eg upp både sag og kvenn,
og bygger båtar,
båd’ skip og flåtar,
på sjøen fin.
Te mast eg set upp ei hanafjør
og så te Gull-landet då det ber.
Sjå skipet reilar,
ja, sjå det seilar,
snart er me der.
Så kjem eg att med ei tunne gull,
med lomb og sauir og silkeull,
og fuglar kjøne,
båd’ blå og grøne,
som syng i krull.
Å bån og veslegut (sung)
Å bån og veslegut hejter eg
og pil og bøgji hev eg med meg.
Kom reven raue,
no skø du daue,
no skyt eg deg.
Å rev du slett alli tenkje må
at du meg lombi skø stela frå.
Kjem du i skogjen,
eg skyt med bøgjen,
skø du få sjå.
Og børtafø’ stoga ein bekk der renn,
der sét eg ópp både sag og kvenn,
og byggjer båtar,
båd’ skip og flåtar,
på sjøen fin.
Te mast eg sét upp ei hanafjør
og sø te Gull-landi då det ber.
Sjå skipet reilar,
ja, sjå det seilar,
snart er me der.
Sø kjæm eg att med ei tónne gull,
med lomb og sauir og silkjeull,
og føglar kjøne,
bå’ blå og grøne,
som syng i króll.
(Ja føglar kjøne
båd’ blå og grøne
som syng i króll.)
I Am But a Little Child
Oh, I am but a little child,
a bow and arrow have I, in the wild.
Red fox beware,
I’ll shoot you there,
I know your wiles.
You simply never must try, O fox,
to steal a lamb from all my flocks.
Amongst the timber,
you’ll hear a whimper,
you’ll get a shock.
And behind the stead, there runs a rill,
where I’ll build both saw and mill,
and build watercraft,
both ships and rafts,
by the sea so still.
I put some feathers on the mast, thus
so that skywards it shall ferry us.
Watch how she sways,
how she sails away,
caught on a gust.
And I’ll return with a barrel of gold,
and lambs and ewes and silk I’ll hold,
and some birds so keen,
both blue and green,
that sing of old.
(Yes, birds so keen,
both blue and green,
that sing of old.)
Jag vet en dejlig rosa (I Know a Rose So Lovely)
Jag vet en dejlig rosa is a Swedish folk song, supposedly first written at the end of the Middle Ages or shortly thereafter, although I haven’t been able to find any early manuscripts of it. It was made most famous by Monica Zetterlund’s version in 1964, with Bill Evans on piano, though she only sings the first two verses.
I had particular trouble in translating lines such as är hon som purpur klar, especially to make it fit in verse. In addition, I’ll acknowledge that the rhyme calm with song in the translation does not, indeed, rhyme for everyone — Received Pronunciation and any variety that lacks the cot-caught merger will not have these as rhyming pairs. Replacing song with psalm will ensure that the rhyme is preserved for these varieties, but I found it to be a less ‘comfy’ word in the translation.
Jag vet en dejlig rosa
Jag vet en dejlig rosa,
och vit som liljeblad.
När jag på henne tänker,
så görs mitt hjärta glad.
Dess stämma ger en hjärtans tröst,
likt näktergalens blida röst—
så hövisk och så ljuv.
Som solen fagert skiner,
är hon som purpur klar.
Gud, låt dig aldrig sörja,
men alltid vara glad.
Må de få komma samman,
med hjärtans fröjd och gamman,
som längta till varann.
Var dag går solen neder,
och dagelig uppgår.
När kommer dagen blider,
att jag dig skåda får?
I hågen är du jämt mig när—
farväl, farväl, min hjärtans kär,
mångtusende godnatt.
I Know a Rose So Lovely
I know a rose so lovely
with a lily’s snowy glow,
and when this rose I ponder,
with bliss I overflow.
Her voice instills the deepest calm
like a nightingale’s chirping song—
so delicate and sweet.
As fairly as the sun does shine,
is she bathed in lilac mist.
God, may you never, ever grieve,
but be with gladness kissed.
May all those be united,
and be their hearts delighted,
who for each other longed.
Each night the sun does disappear,
and each day rise anew.
When will that precious day return
where I can behold you?
I will never let you leave my thoughts;
in parting I am left distraught—
good night, and fare thee well.