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Ein Tag. Lieder für 1 Singstimme mit Pianoforte

Word count: 168

Song Cycle by Catharinus Elling (1858 - 1942)

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1. Ich singe für ein' Einzige

Language: German (Deutsch) after the Norwegian (Bokmål)

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  • by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

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Ich singe für ein' Einzige
 . . . . . . . . . .

[--- The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. ---]

2. Mein junges Lieb den Schleier nahm

Language: German (Deutsch) after the Norwegian (Bokmål)

Authorship

  • by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

Based on

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Mein junges Lieb den Schleier nahm
 . . . . . . . . . .

[--- The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. ---]

3. Sommer schlummert in Winters Arm'

Language: German (Deutsch) after the Norwegian (Bokmål)

Authorship

  • Singable translation by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

Based on

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Sommer schlummert in Winters Arm'
 . . . . . . . . . .

[--- The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. ---]

3. Somren sovnet i vintrens favn [ sung text checked 1 time]

Language: Norwegian (Bokmål)

Translation(s): GER

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Somren sovnet i vintrens favn,
vintren reiste seg, dækked til,
”Rolig”, sa han til elvens spil,
”Rolig”, sa han til gård og havn.
Tause blev de så skogerne.
Hjemme hørtes kun slogerne.

Al den ting som var somren kjær,
fint forvartes til næste gang;
hvile fik det for al sin trang,
markens spirer og vand og trær.
Gjemtes som kjærnen i nødderne,
mulden smuldred om rødderne.

Alt, hvad somren av sygdom led,
pestfrø over dens liv og frugt,
vintren dræbte i frost og flugt,
vågne skal hun i fjældblå fred,
toet av sneen og vindene,
hilset af sundhet i sindene.

Over den sovendes høstgå bryn
vintren strødde så fager drøm,
stjærnehøi, hvidhvid i nordlys-strøm
bar den hende fra syn til syn
gjennem de lange døgnene
frem til hun opslog øynene.

Han, som skjældtes for ond og vred,
lever for det, han ej får se;
han, som skjældtes for morder,
hjan skjærmer og tor hvert år vort land,
gjemmer sig så i fjældene,
til det blir kaldt om kvældene.


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