Another evocation of Spring. This famous song by Edvard Grieg is most familiar in its orchestral version. There's a famous recording by the great Kirsten Flagstad available on YouTube. Do please check it out. Grieg also borrowed the melody for one of his purely orchestral pieces, one of the Two Elegiac Melodies, Op. 34. I hope you will enjoy this alternate setting with piano gorgeously sung by the great Swedish baritone Håkan Hagegård.

Pictures used are of Grieg's homeland of Norway including two of Troldhaugen, the Grieg family house in Bergen.



Våren

Enno ein Gong fekk eg Vetren å sjå
for Våren å røma;
Heggen med Tre som der Blomar var på,
eg atter såg bløma.
Enno ein Gong fekk eg Isen å sjå
frå Landet å fljota,
Snjoen å bråna og Fossen i Å
å fyssa og brjota.
Graset det grøne eg enno ein Gong
fekk skoda med Blomar;
enno eg høyrde at Vårfuglen song
mot Sol og mot Sumar.

Sågiddren endå meg unntes å sjå
på Vårbakken dansa,
Fivreld å fløksa og fjuka ifrå
der Blomar seg kransa.
Alt dette Vårliv eg atter fekk sjå,
som sidan eg miste.
Men eg er tungsam og spyrja meg må:
tru det er det siste?
Låt det so vera: Eg mykje av Vent
i Livet fekk njota;
meire eg fedd, enn eg hadde fortent
og Allting må trjota.

Eingong eg sjølv i den vårlege Eim,
som mettar mit Auga,
eingong eg der vil meg finna ein Heim
og symjande lauga.
Alt det, som Våren imøte meg bar
og Blomen, eg plukka,
Federnes Ånder eg trudde det var,
som dansa og sukka,
Derfor eg fann millom Bjørkar og Bar
i Våren ei Gåta;
derfor det Ljod i den Fløyta eg skar,
meg tyktes å gråta.

Aasmund Olavsson Vinje (1818-1870)




Last Spring

Yet once again cruel winter Ive seen
to springtime surrender;
Buds springing forth on each flower and tree
proclaim natures splendor.
Once more the earth neath the suns warming rays
the ice-sheet is smashing;
Rivers are flowing to sparkling azure bays,
and waterfalls crashing.
See, in the meadows the flowers bloom again,
awakening from slumber;
Hear, from the tree-tops the songbirds in the glen
are singing of summer.

Yet once again oer the fast-leafing trees
the sunbeams are dancing,
Butterflies waft in the undulant breeze,
their hues so entrancing.
All springtimes joys that I saw once again
are soon gone forever;
Therefore I ask from a heart suffused with pain:
shall I see them never?
So be it then; ah, the memries that teem,
all sorrow must banish;
Joy has been mine past my spirits fondest dreams,
and all all must vanish.

One day I surely must go to that place
of glory unending,
There in the homeland of beauty and grace
my longing transcending.
All of springs bounty so richly bestowed,
each radiant flower,
Souls of our fathers come down from their abode
To share earths sweet hour!
Hear how the wind in the tree-tops above
is moaning and crying;
Hear! From each willow and each gray mourning dove:
a sound as of sighing.

Translation by William H. Halverson



Håkan Hagegård (baritone)
Warren Jones (piano)

свернуть