The Tales of Hans Christian Andersen

The Daisy - Gaaseurten

1838

Now I will tell you a story! Nu skal Du høre! -
There once was a country house with a beautiful garden and a white fence around it. On the other side of the fence were a ditch and a road; on the bank above them there grew among the grass a daisy. The sun shone as pleasantly on the little wild flower as it did on the richly colorful, cultivated flowers in the garden, and the daisy grew taller by the hour. One morning it burst into bloom: the petals were white, and in the center of the flower was a yellow button that looked like a little sun. The flower did not realize that no one could see her among the tall grass, nor that she was merely a poor despised wild flower. No, she was content; turning her face toward the warm sun, she looked straight up into it while listening to the song of the lark. Ude paa Landet, tæt ved Veien, laae et Lyststed; Du har bestemt selv engang seet det! der er foran en lille Have med Blomster og et Stakit, som er malet; tæt herved paa Grøften, midt i det deiligste grønne Græs, voxte en lille Gaaseurt; Solen skinnede ligesaa varmt og smukt paa den, som paa de store rige Pragtblomster inde i Haven, og derfor voxte den Time for Time. En Morgen stod den ganske udsprunget med sine smaa, skinnende hvide Blade, der sidde som Straaler rundtom den lille gule Sol indeni. Den tænkte slet ikke paa, at intet Menneske saae den der i Græsset og at den var en fattig, foragtet Blomst; nei den var saa fornøiet, den vendte sig lige imod den varme Sol, saae op i den og hørte paa Lærken, som sang i Luften.
The little daisy was as happy as if the day were a high holiday and not just a common Monday. All the children were in school, sitting at their desks, learning something; and the daisy sat on its stalk and learned something too. It discovered how warm the sun feels and how pleasant life can be; and it decided that the lark's song was the most beautiful in the whole world, because its melody expressed exactly how she felt. The daisy looked humbly up at the happy bird, which not only could fly but could sing as well. She felt neither envious nor sad because she had not been given such gifts. "I can hear and I can see," she thought. "The sun shines upon me and the wind kisses me; I was born quite rich." Den lille Gaaseurt var saa lykkelig, som om det var en stor Helligdag, og saa var det dog en Mandag; alle Børn vare i Skole; mens de sad paa deres Bænke og lærte noget, sad den paa sin lille grønne Stilk og lærte ogsaa af den varme Sol og Alt rundt omkring, hvor god Gud er, og den syntes ret at den lille Lærke sang saa tydeligt og smukt Alt, hvad den i Stilhed følte; og Gaaseurten saae med en Slags Ærbødighed op til den lykkelige Fugl, der kunde synge og flyve, men var slet ikke bedrøvet, fordi den selv ikke kunde det. "Jeg seer og hører jo!" tænkte den, "Solen skinner paa mig og Vinden kysser mig! o, hvor jeg dog er blevet begavet!"
In the garden on the other side of the fence many very elegant flowers grew. The less fragrance they had, the prouder they carried themselves. The peonies puffed themselves up; they wanted to be bigger than the roses, though it is not size that counts. The tulips had the most beautiful colors, but they were well aware of it themselves, and stood up straight so that they could not be overlooked. Not one of them noticed the little daisy outside the fence, but she noticed them all and thought, "How rich and lovely they are. I am sure the bird who sings so beautifully will come and visit them. Thank God I grow so near them that I will be able to see it all." Just at that moment the lark flew down to the ground, but not among the peonies or the tulips; no, it landed in the grass right beside the daisy. That poor flower felt so honored and got so flustered that it didn't know what to think. Indenfor Stakittet stode saa mange stive, fornemme Blomster; jo mindre Duft de havde, desmere kneisede de. Pionerne blæste sig op, for at være større end en Rose, men det er slet ikke Størrelsen, som gjør det! Tulipanerne havde de allersmukkeste Couleurer, og det vidste de nok og holdt sig saa ranke, for at man endnu bedre skulde see det. De lagde slet ikke Mærke til den lille Gaaseurt udenfor, men den saae desmere paa dem og tænkte: "hvor de ere rige og deilige! ja, dem flyver vist den prægtige Fugl ned til og besøger! Gud skee Lov, at jeg staaer saa nær herved, saa kan jeg dog faae den Stads at see!" og lige idet den tænkte det, "qvirrevit!" der kom Lærken flyvende, men ikke ned til Pioner og Tulipaner, nei, ned i Græsset til den fattige Gaaseurt, der blev saa forskrækket af bare Glæde, at den vidste slet ikke mere, hvad den skulde tænke.
The little bird danced around the daisy and sang, "How soft is the grass. And how sweet is this little flower, with gold in its heart, wearing a silver dress." The yellow center of the daisy did (the lark thought) look like gold and its white petals did shine like silver. Den lille Fugl dandsede rundt omkring den og sang: "nei, hvor dog Græsset er blødt! og see, hvilken sød lille Blomst med Guld i Hjertet og Sølv paa Kjolen!" den gule Prik i Gaaseurten saae jo ogsaa ud som Guld, og de smaa Blade rundtom vare skinnende sølvhvide.
The happiness the little daisy felt cannot be described. The bird kissed her with his beak, sang for her; and then flew away, up into the blue summer sky. It took the daisy more than a quarter of an hour to feel like herself again. Shyly she looked into the garden; the flowers in there must have seen the honor paid to her. She felt ever so happy. But the tulips stood just as stiffly as they had before, only their faces were a little redder, for they were annoyed. The peonies were even more thickheaded, and it is a good thing that they couldn't talk or the little daisy would have been told a thing or two. But the little wild flower sensed their ill humor and it hurt her. Just then a maid came out into the garden with a sharp knife in her hand. She walked right over to the tulips and picked them one after another. "Oh dear," the daisy sighed and thought, "How terrible, now life is all over for them." The maid walked into the house with the flowers; and the daisy was happy that she grew on the other side of the fence in the grass and was only a poor little wild flower. When night came she folded her petals and fell asleep to dream about the bird and the warm sun. Saa lykkelig som den lille Gaaseurt var, nei, det kan ingen begribe! Fuglen kyssede den med sit Næb, sang for den og fløi saa igjen op i den blaa Luft. Det varede bestemt et heelt Qvarteer, før Blomsten kunde komme sig igjen. Halv undseelig og dog inderlig fornøiet saae den til Blomsterne inde i Haven; de havde jo seet den Ære og Lyksalighed, der var vederfaret hende, de maatte jo begribe, hvilken Glæde det var; men Tulipanerne stode nok engang saa stive som før, og saa vare de saa spidse i Ansigtet og saa røde, for de havde ærgret sig. Pionerne vare ganske tykhovede, bu! det var godt, at de ikke kunde tale, ellers havde Gaaseurten faaet en ordentlig Tiltale. Den stakkels lille Blomst kunde nok see, at de vare ikke i godt Humeur, og det gjorde den saa inderligt ondt. I det samme kom der inde i Haven en Pige med en stor Kniv saa skarp og skinnende, hun gik lige hen mellem Tulipanerne og skar den ene af efter den anden. "Uh!" sukkede den lille Gaaseurt, "det var jo forskrækkeligt, nu er det forbi med dem!" Saa gik Pigen bort med Tulipanerne. Gaaseurten var glad ved, at den stod ude i Græsset og var en lille, fattig Blomst; den følte sig ret saa taknemmelig, og da Solen gik ned, foldede den sine Blade, sov ind og drømte hele Natten om Solen og den lille Fugl.
The next day when the flower joyfully unfurled herself and stretched her petals like little white arms out into the fresh morning air, she heard the bird's song again. But this time its voice was mournful and its song sad. The lark had good reason for its sorrow; it had been caught and now sat near the open window in a cage. He sang of the joy he had felt when he had flown high up in the sky, about the green fields of grain and the strength of his wings when he had been free. Oh, the poor bird was very unhappy in its little cage! Næste Morgen, da Blomsten igjen, lykkelig, strakte alle de hvide Blade ligesom smaa Arme ud mod Luft og Lys, kjendte den Fuglens Stemme, men det var saa sørgeligt, hvad den sang. Ja, den stakkels Lærke havde god Grund dertil, den var blevet fanget og sad nu i et Buur tætved det aabne Vindue. Den sang om at flyve frit og lykkeligt omkring, sang om det unge, grønne Korn paa Marken og om den deilige Reise, den kunde gjøre paa sine Vinger høit op i Luften. Den stakkels Fugl var ikke i godt Humeur, fangen sad den der i Buret.
The little daisy wanted to help him but how was she to do it? It was a difficult problem and the little flower pondered so long over it that she forgot the beauty that surrounded her and how lovely her own white petals were. She could only think about the poor caged bird, whom she could not help. Den lille Gaaseurt ønskede saa gjerne at hjælpe, men hvorledes skulde den bære sig ad dermed; ja det var vanskeligt at hitte paa. Den glemte reent, hvor smukt Alt stod rundtom, hvor varmt Solen skinnede, og hvor smukke hvide dens Blade saae ud; ak, den kunde kun tænke paa den fangne Fugl, som den slet ikke var istand til at gjøre noget for.
Two little boys came out of the garden; one of them had a sharp knife in his hand. It was just like the one the maid had used to cut the tulips. The boys stopped in front of the daisy, and she understood what they intended to do. Da kom der i det samme to smaa Drenge ud af Haven; den ene af dem havde i Haanden en Kniv, stor og skarp som den, Pigen havde til at skjære Tulipanerne af med. De gik lige hen imod den lille Gaaseurt, der slet ikke kunde begribe, hvad de vilde.
"Here, we can cut a piece of turf for the lark," said the boy with the knife, and began marking out a square in the grass in the midst of which the daisy grew. He cut deep into the earth, for he wanted the grass to keep its roots. "Her kan vi skjære en deilig Græstørv til Lærken!" sagde den ene Dreng og begyndte at skjære i en Fiirkant dybt ned, omkring Gaaseurten, saa at den kom til at staae midt i Græstørven.
"Tear the flower off," said the other boy, and the daisy shook with fear, for to be "torn off" was the same as to die; and she wanted so badly to be put in the cage with the bird. "Riv den Blomst af!" sagde den anden Dreng, og Gaaseurten rystede ordentligt af Angest, thi at blive revet af, var jo at miste Livet, og nu vilde den saa gjerne leve, da den skulde med Græstørven ind i Buret til den fangne Lærke.
"No, let it be," replied the boy with the knife. "It will look nice." And the daisy was allowed to stay in the grass turf that was placed in the bottom of the cage. "Nei, lad den sidde!" sagde den anden Dreng, "den pynter saa net!" og saa blev den siddende og kom med ind i Buret til Lærken.
The poor bird was still bewailing its lost freedom, and beat its wings against the iron grating. The little daisy could not speak, she could not say the words of comfort that she wanted to. The morning passed and it was noon. Men den stakkels Fugl klagede høit over sin tabte Frihed og slog med Vingerne mod Jerntraadene i Buret; den lille Gaaseurt kunde ikke tale, ikke sige et trøstende Ord, ihvor gjerne den vilde. Saaledes gik hele Formiddagen.
"There is no water," moaned the imprisoned lark. "They have all gone away and forgotten to give me even a few drops of water to drink. My throat is dry and burning! It feels as if there were ice and fire inside me; and the air seems so heavy. I will die, and never again feel the warm sunshine or see the greenness: all the beauty that God has made." The little bird buried his bill in the grass because it was cooler there; then it saw the little daisy, nodded, and kissed her. "You must wither and die in here, too, poor little flower! You and this little square of green grass have been given to me in exchange for the whole world I had when I was free. So every blade of grass must now be a tree, and each of your petals a sweet-smelling flower. Oh, the only story you can tell me is the tale of what I have lost." "Her er intet Vand!" sagde den fangne Lærke, "de ere Alle ude og have glemt mig med en Draabe at drikke! min Hals er tør og brændende! der er Ild og Iis indeni mig og Luften er saa tung! Ak, jeg maa døe, fra det varme Solskin, fra det friske Grønne, fra al den Deilighed, Gud har skabt!" og saa borede den sit lille Næb ned i den kjølige Græstørv, for derved at opfriskes lidt; da faldt dens Øine paa Gaaseurten, og Fuglen nikkede til den, kyssede den med Næbbet og sagde: "Du maa ogsaa visne herinde, Du stakkels lille Blomst! Dig og den lille grønne Plet Græs har man givet mig for den hele Verden, jeg havde udenfor! hvert lille Græsstraa skal være mig et grønt Træ, hvert af dine hvide Blade en duftende Blomst! ak, I fortælle mig kun, hvormeget jeg har mistet!"
"If only I could comfort him," thought the daisy; but she couldn't even move her leaves. But the sweet smell that came from the flower was much stronger than daisies usually have, and the lark noticed it, and though he tore in pain at the grass, he did not touch the flower. "Hvo der dog kunde trøste ham!" tænkte Gaaseurten, men den kunde ikke røre et Blad; dog Duften, som strømmede ud af de fine Blade, var langt stærkere, end den ellers findes hos denne Blomst; det mærkede ogsaa Fuglen, og skjøndt den forsmægtede af Tørst og i sin Pine rev de grønne Græsstraa af, rørte den slet ikke Blomsten.
Evening came and still no one brought the poor bird any water. It spread out its wings, its little body trembled; then it turned its head toward the flower and said one last peep before its heart burst from longing and want. The daisy could not fold her petals that night as she had the night before. Sorrowfully, she bent her sick little head toward the earth. Det blev Aften, og endnu kom Ingen og bragte den stakkels Fugl en Vanddraabe; da strakte den sine smukke Vinger ud, rystede dem krampagtigt, dens Sang var et veemodigt Pipi; det lille Hoved bøiede sig henimod Blomsten, og Fuglens Hjerte brast af Savn og Længsel; da kunde Blomsten ikke, som Aftenen forud, folde sine Blade sammen og sove, den hang syg og sørgende ned mod Jorden.
The next morning the boys came. When they saw that the bird was dead they cried bitterly. They dug a little grave and lined it with leaves. They put the lark's body in a handsome red box. Oh, the poor little bird was royally buried. When it had been alive and could sing, it had been put in a cage, where it suffered from thirst because no one remembered to give it any water; but now neither splendor nor tears were lacking. Først den næste Morgen kom Drengene, og da de saae Fuglen død, græd de, græd mange Taarer og gravede den en nydelig Grav, som blev pyntet med Blomsterblade. Fuglens Liig kom i en rød, deilig Æske, kongeligt skulde den begraves, den stakkels Fugl! da han levede og sang, glemte de ham, lod ham sidde i Buret og lide Savn, nu fik han Stads og mange Taarer.
The turf of grass with the daisy in it was thrown out on the dusty road. No one gave a thought to the little flower who had felt most deeply for the lark and had tried so hard to console it. Men Græstørven med Gaaseurten blev kastet ud i Støvet paa Landeveien, ingen tænkte paa den, som dog havde følt meest for den lille Fugl og som gjerne vilde trøste den!

Copyright Anchor Books Doubleday
Hans Christian Andersen:
The Complete Fairy Tales and Stories

Translated from Danish by Erik Christian Haugaard

Copyright:
The Hans Christian Andersen Project