| It happens often after
a thunderstorm that the buckwheat fields appear all black, as
if they had been burned. If you ask the farmer, he will say
that the buckwheat has been singed by lightning, but he doesn't
know why. Let me tell you what I heard from a sparrow, who had
the story from an old willow tree. This willow tree grew right
next to a buckwheat field, and it's still there if you want
to see it. It's a large, dignified tree; but it's ancient and
has a knobby bark. It's split down the middle and in the crevice
grass and blackberries grow. The trunk leans a little to one
side and the branches hang down toward the earth like long green
hair. |
Tidt og ofte, naar man
efter et Tordenveir gaaer forbi en Ager, hvor Boghveden groer,
seer man, at den er blevet ganske sort og afsvedet; det er ligesom
en Ildlue var gaaet hen over den, og Bondemanden siger da: "det
har den faaet af Lynilden!" men hvorfor har den faaet det? -Jeg
skal fortælle, hvad Graaspurven har sagt mig, og Graaspurven
har hørt det af et gammelt Piletræ, der stod ved en Boghvede-Ager
og staaer der endnu. Det er saadant et ærværdigt stort Piletræ,
men runkent og gammelt, det er revnet lige midt i og der voxer
Græs og Brombær-Ranker ud af Revnen; Træet hælder for over og
Grenene hænge lige ned mod Jorden, ligesom om de kunde være
et grønt, langt Haar. |
| All around it are fields
of grain: rye, barley, and oats. How lovely oats are! The kernels,
when they are ripe, look like so many canary birds sitting on
a branch. It stands so gloriously as harvest time approaches,
for the heavier the oats become, the more humbly they bend their
heads toward the ground. |
Paa alle Markerne rundt
om voxte Korn, baade Rug, Byg og Havre, ja den deilige Havre,
der seer ud, naar den er moden, ligesom en heel Mængde smaa
gule Kanarifugle paa en Green. Kornet stod saa velsignet, og
jo tungere det var des dybere bøiede det sig i from Ydmyghed.
|
| But on the field nearest
the old willow tree grew buckwheat; and buckwheat do not bow
their heads but hold them high. They always stand stiff and
proud. |
Men der var ogsaa en
Ager med Boghvede, og den Ager var lige ud for det gamle Piletræ;
Boghveden bøiede sig slet ikke, som det andet Korn, den kneiste
stolt og stiv! |
| "We are as fruitful
as any of the others," said the buckwheat. "And we are more
beautiful, besides. Our flowers are as lovely as the apple tree's.
It is a delight to look at us. You, old willow tree, do you
know of anything more beautiful than we are?" |
"Jeg er vel saa riig,
som Axet," sagde den, "jeg er desuden meget smukkere; mine Blomster
ere skjønne, som Æbletræets Blomster, det er en Lyst at see
paa mig og mine! kjender Du nogen prægtigere end os, Du gamle
Piletræ!" |
| The old willow tree
nodded its head vigorously, as if it were saying, |
Og Piletræet nikkede
med Hovedet, ligesom det vilde sige: |
| "Yes, I certainly do!"
The buckwheat were so indignant that they stood even straighter.
"You stupid tree! You are so old that you have grass growing
in your stomach." |
"jo det gjør jeg rigtignok!"
men Boghveden struttede af bare Hovmod og sagde: "det dumme
Træ, det er saa gammelt at der voxer Græs i Maven paa det!"
|
| The weather turned nasty.
A storm was brewing and all the flowers of the fields folded
their leaves and bent their delicate heads, while the wind tore
past them; but the buckwheat proudly tossed their heads. |
Nu trak der et skrækkeligt
ondt Veir op; alle Markens Blomster foldede deres Blade, eller
bøiede deres fine Hoveder, mens Stormen foer hen over dem; men
Boghveden kneisede i sin Stolthed. |
| "Bend your heads as
we do" called the flowers. |
"Bøi dit Hoved, som
vi!" sagde Blomsterne. |
| "I don't need to," replied
the buckwheat. |
"Det behøver jeg slet
ikke!" sagde Boghveden. |
| "Bend, bend," screamed
the other grains. "In a minute the storm's angel, with its great
wings that stretch from the clouds down to the earth, will be
here! And he will cut you in two if you do not ask him to be
merciful!" |
"Bøi dit Hoved, som
vi!" raabte Kornet! "nu kommer Stormens Engel flyvende! han
har Vinger, der naae oppe fra Skyerne og lige ned til Jorden,
og han hugger Dig midt over, før Du kan bede ham være Dig naadig!"
|
| "I will not bow and
bend," shouted the buckwheat. |
"Ja men jeg vil ikke
bøie mig!" sagde Boghveden. |
| "Close your flowers
and fold your leaves," warned the old willow tree. "And do not
look at the bolts of lightning that appear when the clouds burst;
even man does not dare do that, for through the lightning you
can see right into God's heaven and that sight makes men blind.
Think what would happen to us if we, who are so much less than
man--we who are merely humble plants---should dare to do such
a thing." |
"Luk dine Blomster og
bøi dine Blade!" sagde det gamle Piletræ, "see ikke op mod Lynet,
naar Skyen brister, selv Menneskene tør det ikke, thi i Lynet
kan man see ind i Guds Himmel, men det Syn kan selv gjøre Menneskene
blinde, hvad vilde der da ikke skee med os Jordens Væxter, vovede
vi det, vi, som ere langt ringere!" |
| "Much less?" scowled
the buckwheat "Now I am going to look right into God's heaven!"
And it did, confidently and proudly, while the whole sky was
aflame with lightning. |
"Langt ringere!" sagde
Boghveden. "Nu vil jeg just see ind i Guds Himmel!" og den gjorde
det i Overmod og Stolthed. Det var, som hele Verden stod i Ildslue,
saaledes lynede det. |
| When the bad weather
was over the grain and the flowers, refreshed by the rain, raised
their heads in the still, clear air; but the buckwheat had been
singed black; they were dead and useless, not fit for the reaper
but only for the plow. |
Da det onde Veir siden
var forbi, stod Blomster og Korn i den stille rene Luft, saa
forfriskede af Regnen, men Boghveden var brændt kulsort i Lynet,
den var nu en død, unyttig Urt paa Marken. |
| The old willow tree
swayed her branches gently in the breeze. Drops of water fell
from its leaves, and the little sparrows asked, "Why are you
crying? The weather is so glorious now. See how the sun shines
and the clouds sail by above us. Can't you smell the sweet fragrance
of the flowers and the bushes? Why are you weeping, old willow
tree?" |
Og det gamle Piletræ
bevægede sine Grene i Vinden og der faldt store Vanddraaber
fra de grønne Blade, ligesom om Træet græd, og Spurvene spurgte:
"hvorfor græder Du? her er jo saa velsignet! see hvor Solen
skinner, see hvor Skyerne gaae, kan Du mærke den Duft fra Blomster
og Buske! hvorfor græder Du, gamle Piletræ!" |
| The old tree told the
sparrow about the buckwheat's pride, presumption, and its punishment--for
punishment always follows presumption. Now I have told you the
story, as the sparrow told it to me, one evening when I asked
him to tell me a fairy tale. |
Og Piletræet fortalte
om Boghvedens Stolthed, Overmod og Straf! den følger altid.
Jeg som fortæller Historien har hørt den af Spurvene! -de fortalte
mig det en Aften, da jeg bad dem om et Eventyr. |