Text & Translation
Blåbær-Li, 'Blueberry Slope'
Norwegian source:
Arne Garborg
No må me roa oss, Kyra!
Å nei, slike fine Bær,
og dei, som det berre kryr a’!
Nei, Maken eg hev kje set!
Sumt godt her er då tilfjells.
No vil eg eta meg mett;
her vil eg vera til Kvelds!
Men kom no den Bjønnen stor!—
Her fekk bli Rom åt oss båe.
Eg torde kje seia eit Ord
til slik ein røsjeleg Våe.
Eg sa berre: ver so god!
No må du kje vera bljug!
Eg lêt deg so væl i Ro;
ta for deg etter din Hug.
Men var det den Reven rau,
so skuld’ han få smaka Staven;
eg skulde banka han dau,
um so han var Bror til Paven.
Sligt skarve, harmelegt Sleng!
Han stel både Kje og Lam.
Men endå so fin han gjeng,
hev korkje Agg hell Skam.
Men var det den stygge Skrubb,
so arg og so hôl som Futen,
eg tok meg ein Bjørkekubb
og gav han ein god på Snuten.
Han reiv sund Sauer og Lamm
for Mor mi so trådt og tidt;
ja sant! um han berre kom,
skuld’ han so visst få sitt.
Men var det den snilde Gut
der burte frå Skare-Brôte,
han fekk vel ein på sin Trut,—
men helst på ein annan Måte.
Å Tøv, kva tenkjer eg på!
Det lid nok på Dagen alt …
Eg må til Buskapen sjå;
ho »Dokka« drøymer um Salt.
Blueberry Slope
English translation ©
William Jewson, © BIS Records AB, adapted by Claire Booth
Now cattle, we shall rest ourselves!
Oh, what fine berries
And so many of them.
No, I’ve never seen anything like it!
Some things are good in the mountains.
Now, I’ll eat my fill;
I could stay here until evening time.
But, what if the big bear appeared?
There would have to be room for both of us!
I wouldn’t dare say a word
To such a terrible beast.
I would say: ‘berries; please have some!
Don’t be shy,
I’ll leave you in peace;
Please take whatever you want!’
But, if it were the red fox,
He’d get a taste of my stick;
I would beat him to death,
Even if he was the Pope’s brother.
Such a despicable, awful devil,
He takes both lambs and kids.
But still, he walks so proudly
Feeling no regrets or shame at all.
But, if it were the wicked wolf,
As angry and mean as the bailiff,
I would take a birch club
And hit him hard on the jaw.
He’s always destroying
My mother’s sheep and lambs.
Yes, indeed! If he would only come
He’d get his just reward!
But, if it were that nice lad
Who comes from Skare-Brote.
He’d get one on the mouth
But perhaps in a different way…
How stupid, what am I thinking of?
The day is getting on.
I must go back to the cattle,
For ‘Dokka’ is dreaming of salt.
Blåbær-Li, 'Blueberry Slope'
Norwegian source:
Arne Garborg
Blueberry Slope
English source:
William Jewson, © BIS Records AB, adapted by Claire Booth
Nei sjå, kor det blåner her!
Look how blue it is here!
No må me roa oss, Kyra!
Now cattle, we shall rest ourselves!
Å nei, slike fine Bær,
Oh, what fine berries
og dei, som det berre kryr a’!
And so many of them.
Nei, Maken eg hev kje set!
No, I’ve never seen anything like it!
Sumt godt her er då tilfjells.
Some things are good in the mountains.
No vil eg eta meg mett;
Now, I’ll eat my fill;
her vil eg vera til Kvelds!
I could stay here until evening time.
Men kom no den Bjønnen stor!—
But, what if the big bear appeared?
Her fekk bli Rom åt oss båe.
There would have to be room for both of us!
Eg torde kje seia eit Ord
I wouldn’t dare say a word
til slik ein røsjeleg Våe.
To such a terrible beast.
Eg sa berre: ver so god!
I would say: ‘berries; please have some!
No må du kje vera bljug!
Don’t be shy,
Eg lêt deg so væl i Ro;
I’ll leave you in peace;
ta for deg etter din Hug.
Please take whatever you want!’
Men var det den Reven rau,
But, if it were the red fox,
so skuld’ han få smaka Staven;
He’d get a taste of my stick;
eg skulde banka han dau,
I would beat him to death,
um so han var Bror til Paven.
Even if he was the Pope’s brother.
Sligt skarve, harmelegt Sleng!
Such a despicable, awful devil,
Han stel både Kje og Lam.
He takes both lambs and kids.
Men endå so fin han gjeng,
But still, he walks so proudly
hev korkje Agg hell Skam.
Feeling no regrets or shame at all.
Men var det den stygge Skrubb,
But, if it were the wicked wolf,
so arg og so hôl som Futen,
As angry and mean as the bailiff,
eg tok meg ein Bjørkekubb
I would take a birch club
og gav han ein god på Snuten.
And hit him hard on the jaw.
Han reiv sund Sauer og Lamm
He’s always destroying
for Mor mi so trådt og tidt;
My mother’s sheep and lambs.
ja sant! um han berre kom,
Yes, indeed! If he would only come
skuld’ han so visst få sitt.
He’d get his just reward!
Men var det den snilde Gut
But, if it were that nice lad
der burte frå Skare-Brôte,
Who comes from Skare-Brote.
han fekk vel ein på sin Trut,—
He’d get one on the mouth
men helst på ein annan Måte.
But perhaps in a different way…
Å Tøv, kva tenkjer eg på!
How stupid, what am I thinking of?
Det lid nok på Dagen alt …
The day is getting on.
Eg må til Buskapen sjå;
I must go back to the cattle,
ho »Dokka« drøymer um Salt.
For ‘Dokka’ is dreaming of salt.
