Vilse
Language: Swedish (Svenska)
Available translation(s): ENG FIN FRE
Vi gingo väl vilse ifrån hvarann,
— hvar togo de andra vägen?
Jag ropar i skogen hvad jag kan,
men du står och låtsar förlägen.
Blott eko, det svarar: hallå, hallå!
Och gäckande skrattar en skata,
men himmeln blir plötsligen dubbelt så blå,
— och vi höra upp att prata.
Säg, skullde din puls slå takt till min,
när samtalet går, så staccato?
Min kärlek, min kärlek tar våldsamt mitt sinn',
jag glömmer att känna som Plato.
Jag ser i ditt öga, jag forskar och ser,
pupillerna vidgas och slutas,
och när du ett ögonblick strålande ler,
då kunde ett helgon mutas.
Confirmed with Karl August Tavaststjerna, Laureatus: epopé i tretton sånger : jämte en samling efterlämnade dikter, Stockholm, Alb. Bonniers Boktryckeri, 1897, page 179.
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Anna Hersey) , "Lost", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FIN Finnish (Suomi) (Erkki Pullinen) , "Eksyksissä", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Perdus", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Pierre Mathé
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 102
Lost
Language: English  after the Swedish (Svenska)
We went astray from each other
Where did the others go?
I call into the woods what I can
But you stand there and feign embarrassment.
Only the echo answers: hello, hello!
And a magpie laughs mockingly.
But the heavens become suddenly twice as blue,
And we cease to speak.
Say, should your pulse beat at the same rate as mine,
When the conversation goes so staccato?
My love, my love, be overcome by this feeling,
I forget to feel like Plato,
I look into your eyes, I search and look,
The pupils widen and narrow,
And when you brilliantly smile for an instant,
Then a saint could be bribed.
Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2011-08-02
Line count: 16
Word count: 110