Saa var min Sigurd
Language: Danish (Dansk) after the Old Norse (Fornnorræna)
Our translations: ENG FRE
"Saa var min Sigurd
blandt Gjukes Sønner som Løget,
der groer op over Græsset,
eller den blinkende Sten,
der drages paa Baand,
som Ædelsten over Ædlinges Skare.
Jeg monne
Kongens Kæmper tykkes
herligere end alle Herjans Diser.
Nu er jeg saa liden,
som Løvet er paa Buskene ofte,
thi den Ædle er død.
For Borde jeg savner,
i Seng jeg savner min fuldtro Fælle.
Gjukes Sønner,
volde min Ve,
volde deres Søsters sorgfulde Graad.
Folkets Land I læge øde,
thi ej I holdt de svorne Eder.
Ej skal du, Gunnar!
Guldet nyde;
Ringene vil dig Bane volde,
siden du Sigurd Eder svor.
Ofte var Glæden større i Gaarde,
da min Sigurd sadlede Grane
og da de fore til Brynhild at frie,
den usalige Kvind i Ulykkes stund."
Text Authorship:
Based on:
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 (Philip Schäfer) , "So was my Sigurd", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Mon Sigurd était", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Philip Schäfer
This text was added to the website: 2023-10-02
Line count: 27
Word count: 127
So was my Sigurd
Language: English after the Danish (Dansk)
"So was my Sigurd
Amongst the sons of Gjuke like leek
Growing in the grass,
Like a gleaming stone,
Studded in the band,
A precious stone among a precious throng.
Methought
The king's fighters liked me
Still more than Herjan's girls.
Now I am much bowed down,
Like the leaves of a weeping willow,
For my precious is dead.
At the table I miss him,
In bed I miss him, my familiar fellow.
The sons of Gjuke
Wanted my sorrow,
Wanted their sister's woeful weeping.
May the people leave your land deserted,
As you took your sworn oaths.
You must not, Gunnar!
Reign over the gold;
May the ring guide you,
You swore an oath to Sigurd on this.
Often the yard was full of joy,
When my Sigurd went to saddle Grane
And rode away to wed Brynhild,
That ill-fated woman at an unfortunate time."
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2023-10-02
Line count: 27
Word count: 146
