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Fra Vinterens Kulde Vi komme herind For ydmygt, du Hulde! At kvæge dit Sind. Vi kan ej Mirakler, Men du er saa kjær, At tage os Stakler Saa dan som vi er. Vi kunne ej sjunge, Som Fuglen i Luft, Vi bruge som Tunge Vort Smil og vor Duft. Vi die, vi sanke Ved Moderens Bryst Saa mangen sød Tanke, Til Vemod og Lyst. Og det kan ej fejle, Paa duftende Strøm Kan Smerten hensejle En Stund som i Drøm. Fra Vinterens Kulde Vi vandre herind For yndigt, du Hulde! At kvæge dit Sind.
Text Authorship:
- by Christian Winther (1796 - 1876), "Blomsterne tale", written 1865, from Samlede Digtninger - Brogede Blade - Een [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Edvard Grieg (1843 - 1907), "Blomsterne tale", op. 10 (Fire Romancer af Chr. Winther = Vier Romanzen für 1 Singstimme mit Pianoforte) no. 3 (1864), published 1865 [ voice and piano ], also set in German (Deutsch) [sung text checked 1 time]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist ; composed by Edvard Grieg.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Nigel Parker) , "Flowertalk", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Paroles de fleurs", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 94
Venant du froid de l'hiver Nous arrivons ici, Charmante, pour humblement Rafraîchir ton cœur. Nous ne pouvons faire de miracle, Mais tu es bien gentille De nous prendre comme nous sommes, Nous, pauvres petites. Nous ne pouvons chanter, Comme les oiseaux dans le ciel, En guise de langue, nous avons Notre sourire et notre parfum. Nous tétons, nous cueillons Au sein de notre mère Bien des douces pensées, Apportant mélancolie et joie. Et on ne peut se tromper, Sur notre flot parfumé La douleur peut disparaître En un instant,comme en rêve. Venant du froid de l'hiver Nous arrivons ici, Charmante, pour humblement Rafraîchir ton cœur.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Danish (Dansk) to French (Français) copyright © 2011 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in Danish (Dansk) by Christian Winther (1796 - 1876), "Blomsterne tale", written 1865, from Samlede Digtninger - Brogede Blade - Een
This text was added to the website: 2012-01-10
Line count: 24
Word count: 105