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Min gang er en torden, min næse er krum, mit blik er som blinkende biler. Jeg hersker i landet som mægtig drot, det skummer en saltvandssjø mot mit slot og støtter i stormen smiler. Gud fri dig, prinsesse, jeg jager dig frem fra havens de skjulteste stier! Du flyr under latter de trapper op og kaster dig ned med din venuskrop og lukker dit øie og bier. Jeg leder dig op. Du er fin og fast og skjøn som en gudernes gave. Du kjender og følger mit fingerpek, du lystrer og åpner din favn til lek til lek i din Rosenhave. Alverden går under. Vi leker os bort mens tider og timer de iler. Det lys over himlen er lynet blot og bruset er sjøen som knuser vort slot. Og støtter i stormen smiler.
Confirmed with Knut Hamsun, Samlede Verker, Bind 15 page 169, Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, Oslo, 1964.
Text Authorship:
- by Knut Hamsun (1859 - 1952), "Drot", appears in Det vilde kor, no. #1, Gyldendalske Boghandel, Nordisk Vorlag, København / Kristiana, first published 1904 [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 David Monrad Johansen (1888 - 1974), "Drot", op. 2 (Tre sange) no. 2 [ voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Le monarque", copyright © 2026, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Pierre Mathé [Guest Editor] , Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2025-10-08
Line count: 20
Word count: 134
Ma démarche est tonitruante, mon nez est crochu, Mon regard est comme des phares clignotants. Je règne sur le pays comme un puissant monarque, une mer salée écume contre mon château et dans la tempête ses piliers sourient Dieu te garde, princesse, je te chasse des sentiers les plus cachés du jardin ! Tu fuis en riant dans l'escalier, et tu te jettes à terre avec ton corps de Vénus, tu fermes les yeux et tu attends. Je te conduis, tu es délicate et ferme et belle comme un don des dieux. Tu connais et suis le signe de mon doigt, tu obéis et ouvres tes bras au jeu, Au jeu dans la roseraie. Le monde entier s'effondre. Nous jouons, éperdus, tandis que le temps et les heures s’envolent. Cette lumière dans le ciel n'est qu’un éclair, et le grondement, c’est la mer qui brise notre château. Et les piliers sourient dans la tempête.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Norwegian (Bokmål) to French (Français) copyright © 2026 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 Norwegian (Bokmål) by Knut Hamsun (1859 - 1952), "Drot", appears in Det vilde kor, no. #1, Gyldendalske Boghandel, Nordisk Vorlag, København / Kristiana, first published 1904
This text was added to the website: 2026-10-15
Line count: 20
Word count: 153