by Ernst Josephson (1851 - 1906)
Translation © by Anna Hersey

Svarta rosor
Language: Swedish (Svenska) 
Available translation(s): ENG FIN FRE
Säg hvarför är du så ledsen i dag,
Du, som alltid är så lustig och glad?
Och inte är jag mera ledsen i dag
Än när jag tyckes dig lustig och glad;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

I mitt hjerta der växer ett rosendeträd
Som aldrig nånsin vill lemna mig fred.
Och på stjelkarne sitter [tagg]1 vid tagg,
Och det vållar mig ständigt sveda och agg;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

Men af rosor blir det en hel klenod,
Än hvita som döden, än röda som blod.
Det växer och växer. Jag tror jag förgår,
I hjertträdets rötter det rycker och slår;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.

View original text (without footnotes)
Note: "hjerta der" is spelled "hjärta där" in some editions.

1 Sibelius: "det tagg"

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Anna Hersey) , "Black roses", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FIN Finnish (Suomi) (Erkki Pullinen) , "Mustat ruusut", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Roses noires", copyright © 2014, (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: 15
Word count: 107

Black roses
Language: English  after the Swedish (Svenska) 
Tell me, why are you so sad today,
You, who are always so cheerful and happy?
And I am no more sad today
As when I appear to you cheerful and happy;
For grief has roses black as night.

In my heart a rose tree grows
That will never leave me in peace.
And on its branches sit thorn upon thorn,
And it causes me constant pain and bitterness;
For grief has roses black as night.

But from roses come a whole treasure,
White as death, red as blood.
It grows and grows. I believe I will perish,
My heart-tree’s roots wrench and beat;
For grief has roses black as night.

Authorship

  • Translation from Swedish (Svenska) to English copyright © 2016 by Anna Hersey, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., please ask the copyright-holder(s) directly.

    Anna Hersey.  Contact: hersey (DOT) anna (AT) gmail (DOT) com


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Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2016-06-27
Line count: 15
Word count: 111