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Mig ej lockar din skatt, Afrikas gyllne flod! Ej din perla jag sökt, strålande Ocean! Friggas hjerta mig lockar, Röjdt i tårade ögats dagg. O, hur ringa för mig vore en gränslös verld, Med dess solar af guld, med dess demanters sken, Mot den verld jag med henne Hänryckt gömmer i sluten famn. Hvad af stoftet hon lånt, vad hon af himlen har, Kan jag skilja det mer, än på vår sommarsky Hvad blott aftonen målar Eller morgonens blomsterhand? Tanke svindlar och syn, när i dess blick jag ser, Liksom såge jag ned i ett omätligt djup, Tills jag spritter ur dvalan Vid en kyss af dess purpurmund. Säg, hvar fostrades du, leende engel, säg! Tills du sänkte dig ned, och åt ditt rosentjäll Gaf gestalten af Frigga, Att försköna min vandring här. Mulnar banan ibland, skjuter ett törne fram, Suckar anden engång, tryckt af sin bojas ok, O, hur saligt att ila I den älskades armar då! Jorden smeker min fot, ljuv som en vårvind der, Lifvets fjettrande tyngd lätt som en bubbla käns, Och af svällande pulsar Vaggas själen till Gudars ro.
Confirmed with Johan Ludvig Runeberg, Samlade skrifter, Volumes 2-3, Örebro, N. M. Lindes Boktryckeri, 1852, pages 258-259.
Due to spelling reforms, this is how the text appears in Sibelius's song:
Mig ej lockar din skatt, Afrikas gyllne flod! Ej din pärla jag sökt, strålande Ocean! Friggas hjärta mig lockar, Röjt i tårade ögats dagg. O, hur ringa för mig vore en gränslös värld, Med dess solar af guld, med dess demanters sken, Mot den värld, jag med henne Hänryckt gömmer i sluten famn! Vad af stoftet hon lånt, vad hon av himlen har, Kan jag skilja det mer, än på vår sommarsky Vad blott aftonen målar Eller morgonens blomsterhand? Tanke svindlar och syn, när i dess blick jag ser, Liksom såge jag ned i ett omätligt djup, Tills jag spritter ur dvalan Vid en kyss af dess purpurmun. Säg, var fostrades du, leende ängel, säg! Tills du sänkte dig ned, och åt ditt rosentjäll Gav gestalten av Frigga, Att försköna min vandring här. Mulnar banan ibland, skjuter ett törne fram, Suckar anden engång, tryckt av sin bojas ok, O, hur saligt att ila I den älskades armar då! Jorden smeker min fot ljuv som en vårvind där Livets fjättrande tyngd lätt som en bubbla känns, Och av svällande pulsar Vaggas själen till Gudars ro.
Text Authorship:
- by Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804 - 1877), "Till Frigga", appears in Lyriska dikter I [author's text checked 1 time 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 Jean Sibelius (1865 - 1957), "Till Frigga", op. 13 (Seitsemän yksinlaulua pianon säestyksellä Runebergin teksteihin = 7 sånger (Seven songs)) no. 6 (1892), first performed 1892 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "To Frigga", copyright © 2019
- FIN Finnish (Suomi) (Erkki Pullinen) , "Friggalle", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "À Frigga", copyright © 2009, (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: 28
Word count: 184
Your treasure does not entice me, golden river of Africa! Nor do I seek your pearls, shining ocean! Frigga's heart entices me, Betrayed by a dew of tears. Oh, how small for me would be a limitless world, With its golden suns, with its gleaming diamonds, Compared to the world that she and I Hide in our ecstatic embrace! What she has borrowed from earth's dust, what she has [borrowed] from heaven, Can I distinguish? - just as with our summer sky, Can I distinguish what evening painted From what morning created with handfuls of flowers? When I look into her eyes, my thoughts and eyes deceive me, For it is as if I'm looking down into an immeasurable depth, Until I am awakened By a kiss from her rosy lips. Tell me where you came from, smiling angel, tell me! Before you descended to earth and your rosy essence Became the figure of Frigga, To make my wanderings here wonderful. Sometimes the way forward is unclear or a thorn may pierce one; The spirit may sigh under the weight of its fetters. Oh, how blessed it is to rush Then into the arms of one's beloved! The earth caresses my foot gently, like a spring breeze there; Life's fetters feel as light as a bubble, And swelling pulses Rock the soul to a god-like peace.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Swedish (Svenska) to English copyright © 2019 by Emily Ezust
Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
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Based on:
- a text in Swedish (Svenska) by Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804 - 1877), "Till Frigga", appears in Lyriska dikter I
This text was added to the website: 2019-07-22
Line count: 28
Word count: 225