Det stiger, det stiger, det stiger herop
Language: Danish (Dansk)
Our translations: ENG FRE
Det stiger, det stiger, det stiger herop;
Bækken vandrer mod Fjældet.
Det er uhørt Leg; er jeg ældet? o nej,
Jeg er fældet paa Vej,
Jeg er angst for mit Liv,
Kunde dø for min Kniv;
Hvor er Kongens Dyveke henne? -
Véd ej, kan ej selv hende kende.
De hvisler omkring mig som Snoge,
Maa lukke mine Øjenlaage;
De trykker min Haand,
Jeg tør ej, jeg véd -
Jeg er angst, jeg er hed,
Jeg er træt af mig selv, af min Leg er jeg led;
Jeg er ræddelig stedt i den bitreste Nød.
Jesus Maria, hvem der var død!
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Drachmann, Holger,
Samlede Petiske Skrifter - Folkeudgave - Fjerde bind, Gyldendalske Boghandel Nordisk Forlag, Kjøbenhavn og Kristiania, 1907.
Text 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:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Heinrich Zschalig ; composed by Peter Arnold Heise.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Camilla Bugge) , "It rises, it rises, it rises up here", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Camilla Bugge
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 99
It rises, it rises, it rises up here
Language: English after the Danish (Dansk)
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!
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Danish (Dansk) to English copyright © 2004 by Camilla Bugge, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2004-12-11
Line count: 18
Word count: 107