Dyveke's Songs

Must always fasten my hair 'neath my cap,
dare never tie a ribbon therein;
the shop smells foul -
oh to be free like the bird!

My mother was a stately lady;
come, little mirror, and let me see.
At my christening they called me "Dove",
she would rather fly free.

The bells are ringing for matins,
now Dyveke's day will be so long;
and if I wish to leave the town with mother,
the irongrey mountains bar our path.

But out in the garden grow herbs and flowers,
there my heart dreams among onions and bulbs;
spicily fragrant the delightful summer,
and the heart throbs like a cuckoo.

It beats against my hand, and drums under the skin,
it promises a long life for me.
Greetings, bird, among herbs and flowers,
greetings, warbling cuckoo!

Ah, who but had a cap
with feathers and brocade,
and who but were dressed as a lady,
and was going to mass!
And who but could drive in a chaise
or ride a horse with a falcon on my arm;
ah, who but wasn't a Cinderella,
but owned a castle of stone!

I sit, closing my eyes,
with my hands under my knees;
and I long for the wooden dolls,
I had as a child;
I dressed them up as I would,
adorned them in sable and furs;
ah, who but was a child amongst dolls again -
or the dolls were ladies and men!

Then I'd take the best one's cap
with feathers and brocade
and adorn myself as a lady
who is going to mass.
I'd go to court in a sedan chair,
followed by a knight with a falcon on his arm.
Ah no, I must weep for knight and castle,
I am but Cinderella.

What does he want, that man with the chains,
with golden chains upon his breast?
Wherever I go, his eyes follow,
but when he speaks, his voice has
a power that I must obey.
A man of the church, a nobleman;
God knows if the dove
could breach that hawk-skin?

...And he is the prince's chancellor,
and the prince is coming here!

How does a prince look like, I wonder?
He must bear chains upon his breast, I suppose,
and linen around his neck and silken robes;
but will his voice have such a might,
that maidens must obey?
Alas, here in mother Sigbrit's shop
he will never set his foot.
What would we have to offer him?

Wild, wild, wild rushes the wind,
summer has almost left the land.
The blackening waters lap against the quay;
I saw him on the quay, that royal man.

His eye was as deep as the fjord out there;
I could sink myself into it.
His broad chest was a velvet pillow;
I could rest upon it.

At his feet I could fall with a sigh
and smile, should his hand caress my brow.
Often they said that the dove was fair.
Now I know, who is the hawk!

Wild, wild, wild rushes the wind,
could I but attend the ball tonight!
I'd stand on the threshold, afraid, -
and yet would so like to dance!

His eye was as deep as the fjord out there;
I could sink myself into it.

Hardly dare I speak,
'fore sudden he waves;
the king dreams awake,
and yet worse by night;
would so like to tell him
what I think about the most...
I think of days gone by:
he cannot understand it!

I dreamt, that I was a dove,
and caged with a hawk,
from the hawk's glittering eyes
I fled 'gainst the wall in fear;
then he offered me safe-conduct
wherever I might desire...
then he thrust his rapier beak
through my white breast.

Ever must I wake
by day and by night,
if I turn from him,
he wakens suddenly,
clasps me in his embrace,
as if I would leave him...
his kisses are burning flame;
I cannot understand them.

It rises, it rises, it rises up here,
the brook wanders towards the mountain.
It's an unheard-of game.
Have I aged? Oh no,
I am struck down on the road,
I'm afraid for my life,
I could die for my knife;
where has the King's own Dyveke gone?
I know not, do not recognize her myself.

They hiss about me like grass snakes,
I must close my eyelids;
they press my hand,
I dare not, I know -
I'm afraid, I am hot,
I have tired of myself,
have grown loath of my game,
I am cruelly placed in the bitterest need.
Jesus Mary, would I were dead!