The Tales of Hans Christian Andersen

Mother Elderberry - Hyldemoer.

1850

Once upon a time there was a little boy who had caught cold. He had got his feet wet, and no one could imagine how, for the weather had been dry for days. His mother undressed him and put him to bed; then she took out the teapot to make elderberry tea, for that is such a good remedy for colds. Just at that moment the pleasant old man who had his lodgings on the top floor entered. He lived completely alone, for he had neither wife nor children of his own, but he was very fond of other people's children and knew how to tell the most amusing fairy tales and stories. Der var engang en lille Dreng, der var forkjølet; han havde gaaet og faaet vaade Fødder, Ingen kunde begribe, hvor han havde faaet dem fra, thi det var ganske tørt Veir. Nu klædte hans Moder ham af, bragte ham i Seng og lod Theemaskinen komme ind, for at lave ham en god Kop Hyldethee, for det varmer! I det samme kom ind ad Døren den gamle morsomme Mand, som boede øverst oppe i Huset og levede saa alene, for han havde hverken Kone eller Børn, men holdt saa meget af alle Børn og vidste at fortælle saa mange Eventyr og Historier, at det var en Lyst.
"Now drink your tea like a good boy," said the mother, "and maybe you will be told a story." "Nu drikker du din Thee!" sagde Moderen, "maaskee faaer du saa et Eventyr."
"If I only knew one that he hasn't heard already," said the old man, and nodded kindly. "But tell me, how did the little fellow get his feet wet?" "Ja naar man bare kunde noget nyt!" sagde den gamle Mand og nikkede saa mildt. "Men hvor har den lille faaet de vaade Fødder?" spurgte han.
"Where, indeed!" The mother shook her head. "That is a mystery." "Ja, hvor har han det!" sagde Moderen, "det kan der Ingen begribe."
"Are you going to tell me a story?" asked the boy. "Faaer jeg et Eventyr?" spurgte Drengen.
"Maybe, if you can tell me exactly how deep the ditch is that runs along the lane next to your school; I would rather like to know that." "Ja, kan du sige mig temmelig nøiagtigt, for det maa jeg først vide, hvor dyb er Rendestenen omme i den lille Gade, hvor du gaaer i Skole."
"In the deepest place, the water is halfway up to the top of my boots," answered the boy. "Akkurat til midt paa Skafterne," sagde Drengen, "men saa maa jeg gaae i det dybe Hul!"
"That solves the mystery of the wet feet," said the old gentleman. "Now I should tell you a story, but I can't remember any that you haven't heard." "See derfra har vi de vaade Fødder," sagde den Gamle. "Nu skulde jeg rigtignok fortælle et Eventyr, men jeg kan ingen flere!"
"You can make one up. Mother says that anything you touch becomes a fairy tale." "De kan lave et lige strax," sagde den lille Dreng. "Moder siger, at Alt hvad De seer paa, kan blive et Eventyr, og Alt hvad De rører ved, kan De faae en Historie af!"
"No, that kind of story or fairy tale is not worth much; it is not like the real ones who come knocking on my forehead and say: 'Here I am, let me in.'" "Ja, men de Eventyr og Historier due ikke! nei, de rigtige, de komme af sig selv, de banke mig paa Panden og sige: her er jeg!"
"Won't one come knocking soon?" asked the boy. And his mother laughed as she put the elderberries in the teapot and poured boiling water on them. "Banker det ikke snart?" spurgte den lille Dreng, og Moderen loe, kom Hyldethee paa Potten og skjænkede kogende Vand over.
"Please tell me a story! Please!" begged the boy. "Fortæl! fortæl!"
"A fairy tale only comes when it wants to, for fairy tales and stories are so highborn that they won't obey anyone, not even kings . . . Stop!" he cried suddenly, and held up his forefinger. "There it is! Be careful. It is in the teapot." "Ja, naar der vilde komme et Eventyr af sig selv, men saadant et er fornemt, det kommer kun naar det selv har Lyst -! stop!" sagde han lige med Et. "Der har vi det! pas paa, nu er der et paa Theepotten!"
The boy looked at the teapot. Slowly the lid lifted; up out of the top of the pot came fresh elderberry branches and from them hung clusters of white flowers. Now they were coming out of the spout as well. They grew and grew until they became a full-grown elderberry tree whose limbs crossed his bed and pushed aside the curtains. It was a grand tree! And how beautifully it smelled! In the middle of the tree sat an old woman. She wore a dress that was as green as the elder leaves and had a pattern of white elder flowers. It was hard to tell whether her dress was made of cloth or out of real flowers and leaves. The old woman smiled kindly down at the boy. Og den lille Dreng saae hen til Theepotten, Laaget hævede sig meer og meer, og Hyldeblomsterne kom frem saa friske og hvide, de skjøde store lange Grene, selv ud af Tuden bredte de sig til alle Sider og bleve større og større, det var den deiligste Hyldebusk, et heelt Træ, det ragede ind i Sengen og skjød Gardinerne til Side; nei, hvor det blomstrede og duftede! og midt i Træet sad en gammel, venlig Kone med en underlig Kjole paa, den var ganske grøn, ligesom Hyldetræets Blade og besat med store hvide Hyldeblomster, man kunde ikke strax see, om det var Tøi eller levende Grønt og Blomster.
"What is her name?" the lad asked. "Hvad hedder den Kone?" spurgte den lille Dreng.
"The Greeks and the Romans thought she was a wood nymph and called her dryad. Down in the 'new cottages'--which aren't very new, being three hundred years old--the old sailors who live there call her Mother Elderberry," the old man explained. "Now keep an eye on her. I shall tell you a story, while you look at the beautiful elder tree. "Ja, disse Romere og Grækere", sagde den gamle Mand, "de kaldte hende en Dryade, men det forstaae vi ikke; ude i Nyboder have de et bedre Navn til hende, der kaldes hun: 'Hyldemoer', og det er nu hende, du skal passe paa; hør bare efter, og see paa det deilige Hyldetræ:
"It takes place in the 'new cottages.' Down in one of those tiny, narrow yards that the old sailors call their gardens, there grew a lovely elder tree, just like the one you are looking at. One sunny afternoon an old couple were sitting in its shade. He was an old, retired sailor, and she was a very old woman, who was his wife. They were so old that they had great-grandchildren and soon would celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. But, alas! they could not remember the date. Mother Elderberry sat up in her tree looking very pleased with herself. 'I know which day it is,' she said. "The old couple hadn't heard her. They were talking about the old times, when they had been young. Netop saadant et stort, blomstrende Træ staaer der ude i Nyboder; det voxede henne i Krogen i en lille fattig Gaard; under dette Træ sad en Eftermiddag, i det deiligste Solskin, to gamle Folk, det var en gammel, gammel Sømand og hans gamle, gamle Kone, de vare Oldeforældre og skulde snart holde deres Guldbryllup, men de kunde ikke rigtig huske Datoen, og Hyldemoer sad i Træet og saae saa fornøiet ud, ligesom her. "Jeg veed nok, naar det er Guldbryllup!" sagde hun, men de hørte det ikke, de talte om de gamle Dage.
"'Can you remember,' began the old seaman, 'when we were children and played in this very yard, how we used to stick twigs in the earth and make believe we were making a garden?' "Ja, kan du huske," sagde den gamle Sømand, "den Gang vi vare ganske smaa Unger og løb og legede, det var netop i den samme Gaard, hvor vi nu sidde, og vi stak Pinde i Jorden og gjorde en Have."
"'Yes, I remember,' said his wife. 'We watered them and one of them was an elder branch and it struck roots and began to grow. And now it is such a big tree that we two old souls can sit in its shade.' "Ja," sagde den gamle Kone, "det husker jeg godt! og vi vandede Pindene, og een af dem var en Hyldepind, den satte Rod, skjød grønne Skud og er nu blevet til det store Træ, vi gamle Mennesker sidde under."
"'Yes,' agreed the old sailor. 'Over there in the comer of the yard there used to stand an old tub, filled with water; that was the ocean my ships sailed on. I had carved them myself with my own knife. But it didn't take long before I walked the deck of a real ship, did it?' "Ja vist!" sagde han, "og derhenne i Krogen stod en Vandballe, der flød mit Fartøi, jeg havde selv skaaret det, hvor det kunde seile! men jeg kom rigtignok snart anderledes ud at seile!"
"'No, but first we went to school,' the old woman smiled. 'And then we were confirmed and we both cried in church that day. In the afternoon we walked hand in hand up to the top of the Round Tower and looked out over the world. Later, we trudged all the way out to the Royal Gardens in Frederiksberg; there we saw the king and queen being rowed in their beautiful boat through the canals of the park.' "Ja, men først gik vi i Skole og lærte Noget!" sagde hun, "og saa bleve vi confirmerede; vi græd begge to; men om Eftermiddagen gik vi Haand i Haand op paa Rundetaarn og saae ud i Verden over Kjøbenhavn og Vandet; saa gik vi paa Frederiksberg, hvor Kongen og Dronningen i deres prægtige Baade seilede om i Kanalerne."
"'Rougher voyages than that were to be my lot. Remember how long I was to be away; it was not months but years.' "Men jeg kom rigtignok anderledes til at seile, og det i mange Aar, langt bort paa de store Reiser!"
"'And I cried.' Again the old woman smiled. 'I thought for sure that you were dead and I would never see you again. I thought you were drowned and were lying deep down, under the dark waves. Many a night I got out of my warm bed to look at the weather vane to see if the wind had changed; it changed often enough but still you didn't come home. I remember one day--oh, what terrible weather we had; it was pouring!--I had heard the garbage wagon rumbling down the street and I came running down from the kitchen with the garbage pail. I was a servant then. I stood for a moment in the open door to look at the rain, and the mailman came and gave me a letter. It was from you. I tore it open and read it right through. I was so happy that I both laughed and cried. You wrote that you were in the warm countries where coffee grows.--How lovely it must be there!--You described it all so well that I feel as if I had been there. . . There I stood with the garbage pail in my hand, while the rain streamed down, when all at once I felt an arm around my waist--' "Ja, jeg græd tidt for dig!" sagde hun, "jeg troede, du var død og borte og skulde ligge og pjanke dernede i det dybe Vand! mangen Nat stod jeg op og saae om Fløien dreiede sig; ja den dreiede sig nok, men du kom ikke! jeg husker saa tydelig, hvorledes det skyllede ned en Dag, Skrallemanden kom udenfor, hvor jeg tjente, jeg kom ned med Fjerdingen og blev staaende ved Døren; - hvor det var et fælt Veir! og ligesom jeg stod der, var Postbudet ved Siden af mig og gav mig et Brev; det var fra dig! ja hvor det havde reist om! jeg foer lige i det og læste; jeg loe og jeg græd; jeg var saa glad! der stod, at du var i de varme Lande, hvor Kaffebønnerne groe! hvor det maa være et velsignet Land! du fortalte saa meget, og jeg saae det altsammen, mens Regnen skyllede ned, og jeg stod med Fjerdingen. I det samme var der Een, som tog mig om Livet - -!"
"'Yes, and you gave that poor fellow such a box on the ears that it could be heard all the way down the street.' "- Ja, men du gav ham et godt Slag paa Øret, saa det kladskede efter."
"'How could I have known it was you! You had come home as fast as your letter. Oh, how handsome you were, and that you are still! You had a long yellow silk handkerchief sticking out of your pocket and a shiny hat on your head. You looked so fine. But what a day it was, the street looked like a river.' "Jeg vidste jo ikke, at det var dig! Du var kommet ligesaa tidligt som dit Brev; og du var saa kjøn! - det er du da endnu, du havde et langt, guult Silkelommetørklæde i Lommen og en blank Hat paa; du var saa fiin. Gud, hvor det dog var et Veir, og hvor Gaden saae ud!"
"'And then we got married,' laughed the old man. 'Do you remember? Then came the children: first the boy, then Marie, Niels, Peter, and Hans Christian.' "Saa bleve vi gifte!" sagde han, "husker du? og saa da vi fik den første lille Dreng og saa Marie og Niels og Peter og Hans Christian!"
"'And they all turned out so well. They are liked and respected by everyone.' "Ja, og hvor de Allesammen ere voxede op og blevne skikkelige Mennesker, hvem Alle holde af!"
"'And their children, in turn, have got little ones now,' said the old sailor, and nodded. 'We have great-grandchildren who have spirit. You know, I think it was about this time of the year that we got married.' "Og deres Børn igjen, de have faaet Smaa!" sagde den gamle Matros; "ja det er Børnebørnsbørn, der er Krummer i! - det var jo dog, synes mig, paa denne Tid af Aaret vi holdt Bryllup -!"
"'Yes, this very day is your golden wedding day,' said Mother Elderberry, and put her head between the old man and his wife. They thought she was a neighbor who had stuck her head in over the fence. "They looked at each other; and each reached out for the other's hand. A few minutes later their children and grandchildren came to congratulate them, for they knew that it was the old couple's fiftieth wedding anniversary and had been there earlier that day; but the old couple had forgotten their visit, while they could recall everything that had happened half of a century ago. "The scent of the elder flowers was heavy; the sun was just setting, and its glow gave the old man and his wife red cheeks. Their youngest grandchild danced around them happily. 'Tonight we are going to have a feast and eat roast potatoes.' That was his favorite food. "Old Mother Elderberry nodded and shouted, 'Hurrah!' with everyone else." "Ja, just i Dag er det Guldbryllupsdagen!" sagde Hyldemoer og stak Hovedet lige ind imellem de to Gamle, og de troede, at det var Nabokonen, der nikkede; de saae paa hinanden og holdt hinanden i Hænderne; lidt efter kom Børn og Børnebørn; de vidste godt, at det var Guldbryllupsdagen, de havde allerede imorges gratuleret, men det var glemt af de Gamle, medens de huskede saa godt Alt, hvad der var skeet for mange Aar tilbage; og Hyldetræet duftede saa stærkt og Solen, som var ved at gaae ned, skinnede de to Gamle lige ind i Ansigtet; de saae begge to saa rødmussede ud, og den mindste af Børnebørnene dandsede rundt om dem og raabte nok saa lyksalig, at i Aften skulde der være rigtig Stads, de skulde have varme Kartofler; og Hyldemoer nikkede i Træet og raabte Hurra med alle de Andre. -"
"But that was no fairy tale," complained the little boy. - "Men det var jo intet Eventyr!" sagde den lille Dreng, som hørte det fortælle.
"That is your opinion," said the kind old man who had told the story. "Let us ask Mother Elderberry." "Ja, det maa du forstaae!" sagde han, som fortalte, "men lad os spørge Hyldemoer!"
"The child is right, it was no fairy tale," said Mother Elderberry. "But now it comes, for out of reality are our tales of imagination fashioned. If this were not true, then my elder tree could not have grown out of the teapot." Mother Elderberry lifted the boy in her arms and pressed him to her breast. The flowering branches of the elder tree enfolded them. Now they were in an arbor and it was flying through the air with them inside it. It was a most delightful feeling. All at once Mother Elderberry changed into a young girl. She still had on her green dress with the pattern of white elder flowers, but there was a live flower pinned to her breast and around her curly golden hair there was a wreath of elder flowers. She and the boy kissed each other; and then they were one in age and desires. "Det var intet Eventyr;" sagde Hyldemoer, "men nu kommer det! Ud af det Virkelige voxer just det forunderligste Eventyr; ellers kunde jo min deilige Hyldebusk ikke være sprunget ud af Theepotten!" og saa tog hun den lille Dreng ud af Sengen, lagde ham ved sit Bryst, og Hyldegrenene, fulde af Blomster, sloge sammen omkring dem, de sad, som i det tætteste Lysthuus, og det fløi med dem igjennem Luften, det var saa mageløst deiligt. Hyldemoer var med eet blevet en ung, nydelig Pige, men Kjolen var endnu af samme grønne, hvidblomstrede Tøi, som Hyldemoer havde baaret; paa Brystet havde hun en virkelig Hyldeblomst, og om sit gule, krøllede Haar en heel Krands af Hyldeblomster; hendes Øine vare saa store, saa blaa, o, hun var saa velsignet at see paa! hun og Drengen kyssedes, og saa vare de i lige Alder og af lige Lyst.
Hand in hand, they left the arbor. On the green lawn lay his father's cane, tethered to a stick; for, to the children the cane was a horse. And when they mounted it to gallop around the garden, it had both a head and a flowing black mane. "Now we shall ride for miles and miles!" shouted the boy. "We shall ride all the way to the castle we visited last year." They rode round and round the garden. The little girl, who we know was none other than Mother Elderberry, said to the boy, "Now we are out in the country. Look, that's a farmer's house. See that wall with the big lump, protruding from the wall, like a giant egg, that's the oven for baking bread. In the shade of the elder tree nearby, you can see a flock of hens scratching the earth for worms. Look at the cock. See how he swaggers! . . . Now we are passing the church. It is built on a hill; near it are two ancient oak trees; one of them is wizened. . . . Now we are at the blacksmith's shop. The red fire glows. The man is naked to the waist. See his muscles as he lifts his hammer. . . . The sparks are flying all about him. . . . Away we go to the castle!" Everything the little girl, who was riding behind him on the stick, described, the little boy saw; and yet they had only ridden around the lawn. Later they played on the gravel path and made a little garden of their own, and the girl took the elder flowers from the wreath in her hair and planted them. They grew just as the branch had, which the old seaman and his wife had planted; and they walked, hand in hand, just as the old people had done when they were children. But they didn't climb up the Round Tower or go out to the Royal Gardens of Frederiksberg. No, the little girl put her arm around the boy's waist and away they flew all around Denmark. Spring changed into summer; soon it was harvest; and then the white winter came. A thousand pictures were mirrored in the little boy's eyes and heart, while the little girl repeated: "This you shall never forget!" During their flight the sweet scent of elder flowers was all about them. The boy smelled only faintly the perfume of the roses and the fragrance of the fresh beech branches, for the elder flower bloomed in the girl's heart, and the boy never strayed from her. De gik Haand i Haand ud af Løvhytten og stode nu i Hjemmets smukke Blomsterhave; ved den friske Græsplet var Faders Stok tøiret til en Pind; for de Smaa var der Liv i Stokken; saasnart de satte sig skrævs over den, forvandlede sig den blanke Knap til et prægtigt, vrinskende Hoved, den lange sorte Manke flagrede, fire slanke, stærke Been skjød ud; Dyret var stærkt og væligt; i Gallop foer de rundt om Græspletten; hussa! "Nu ride vi mange Mile bort!" sagde Drengen; "vi ride til Herregaarden, hvor vi vare ifjor!" og de reed og reed Græspletten rundt; og altid raabte den lille Pige, der, som vi veed, var ingen anden end Hyldemoer: "Nu ere vi paa Landet! seer du Bondens Huus med den store Bagerovn, der synes et kjæmpestort Æg i Muren ud mod Veien; Hyldetræet hælder sine Grene hen over den, og Hanen gaaer og skraber for Hønsene, see, hvor den bryster sig! - nu ere vi ved Kirken! den ligger høit paa Bakken mellem de store Egetræer, hvoraf det ene er halvt gaaet ud! - Nu er vi ved Smedien, hvor Ilden brænder, og de halvnøgne Mænd slaae med Hammeren, saa Gnisterne flyve vidtomkring. Afsted, afsted til den prægtige Herregaard!" og Alt, hvad den lille Pige, der sad bag paa Stokken, sagde, det fløi ogsaa forbi; Drengen saae det, og dog kom de kun Græspletten rundt. Saa legede de i Sidegangen og ridsede i Jorden en lille Have, og hun tog Hyldeblomsten af sit Haar, plantede den, og den voxte akkurat ligesom det var skeet for de Gamle Folk i Nyboder den Gang de vare Smaa, og som der tidligere er fortalt om. De gik Haand i Haand, ligesom de Gamle Folk havde gjort det som Børn, men ikke op paa det runde Taarn, eller til Frederiksberghave, nei, den lille Pige tog Drengen om Livet, og saa fløi de vidt omkring i hele Danmark, og det var Vaar og det blev Sommer, og det var Høst og det blev Vinter, og tusinde Billeder afspeilede sig i Drengens Øine og Hjerte, og altid sang den lille Pige for ham: "det vil du aldrig glemme!" og paa den hele Flugt duftede Hyldetræet saa sødt og saa deiligt; han mærkede vel Roserne og de friske Bøge, men Hyldetræet duftede endnu mere forunderligt, thi dets Blomster hang ved den lille Piges Hjerte, og til det hældede han i Flugten tidt sit Hoved.
"How beautiful spring is here!" she said; and they were standing in the midst of the tender green beech forest. At their feet grew the woodruff like a green carpet; and the fragile anemones, with their pale pink petals, were everywhere. "Oh, I wish it were always spring!" exclaimed the little boy. "Her er deiligt i Vaaren!" sagde den unge Pige, og de stode i den nys udsprungne Bøgeskov, hvor den grønne Bukkar duftede for deres Fødder, og de blegrøde Anemoner saae saa deilige ud i det Grønne. "0, var det altid Vaar i den duftende danske Bøgeskov!"
"How beautiful summer is here!" she said. Now they were flying past an old castle. Its red brick walls reflected in the water of the moat, where white swans made ripples in the mirror-like surface. The great white birds were looking at the long cool avenue of trees. The wind made waves in the field of grain as if it were a sea. In the ditches along the roads, yellow and red flowers bloomed; and the stone hedges were covered with wild hops and flowering bindweed. In the evening the pale moon rose. Down in the meadow the scent of newly cut hay filled the air. "This you will never forget." "Her er deiligt i Sommeren!" sagde hun, og de foer forbi gamle Herregaarde fra Riddertiden, hvor de røde Mure og takkede Gavle speilede sig i Kanalerne, hvor Svanerne svømmede og kiggede op i de gamle kjølige Alleer. Paa Marken bølgede Kornet, ligesom det var en Sø, Grøfterne stode med røde og gule Blomster, Gjærderne med vild Humle og blomstrende Convolvoli; og om Aftenen steg Maanen rund og stor, Høstakkene paa Engene duftede saa sødt. "Det glemmes aldrig!"
"How beautiful autumn is here!" said the little girl; and the sky suddenly seemed twice as high and twice as blue. The woods had turned yellow, brown, and red, and they heard the barking of the hunting dogs. Flocks of screeching birds flew above the blackberry-covered stones of the Viking graves. The sea had turned almost black, and the sails appeared whiter against the dark color of the water. Down in the barn old women and young girls and children were busy picking the hops, dumping them into large vats. The young people sang the songs of the day, but the old women told stories of trolls and gnomes. What could be pleasanter? "How beautiful winter is here!" said the little girl; and the trees were decked in hoarfrost and looked like a coral forest. Snow crunched under the children's boots and sounded as if they were wearing new shoes. At night shooting stars fell from the dark heavens. Christmas trees were lit and gifts exchanged. Someone was playing the violin; there was dancing in the farmer's living room, and from the kitchen came platters full of apple fritters that were refilled as soon as they were eaten. Then even the poorest child could say: "It is lovely in winter!" "Her er deiligt i Efteraaret!" sagde den lille Pige, og Luften blev dobbelt saa høi og blaa, Skoven fik de deiligste Couleurer af Rødt, Guult og Grønt, Jagthundene foer afsted, hele Skarer Fuglevildt fløi skrigende henover Kæmpehøien, hvor Brombær ranken hang om de gamle Stene; Havet var sortblaat med hvide Seilere og i Loen sad gamle Koner, Piger og Børn og pillede Humle i et stort Kar; de Unge sang Viser, men de Gamle for talte Eventyr om Nisser og Trolde. Bedre kunde der ikke være! "Her er deiligt i Vinteren!" sagde den lille Pige; og alle Træer stode med Riimfrost, de saae ud som hvide Koraller, Sneen knirkede under Fødderne, som om man altid havde nye Støvler paa, og fra Himlen faldt det ene Stjerneskud efter det andet. I Stuen tændtes Juletræet, der var Presenter og godt Humeur; paa Landet klang Violen i Bondens Stue, Æbleskiver fløi i Grams; selv det fattigste Barn sagde: "Det er dog deiligt om Vinteren!"
Yes, it was truly beautiful. The little girl showed him the whole country of Denmark; and everywhere they went there was the smell of elder flowers; and there flew the flag with a white cross on the red background, the same one that flew from the mast of the ship on which the old sailor had sailed. The boy became a young man. Now he was ready to journey out into the wide world: far, far away to the warm countries, where coffee grows. When they parted the little girl took the elder flower from her bosom and gave it to him. He put it between two of the pages of his hymnbook, and far from home, when he took down the book, it would always open to the pages where the elder flower was. The more he gazed at the dry, pressed flower, the more alive and fresh it became. He smelled the perfume of the Danish forest, and among the green branches he saw the face of the little girl peeking out at him and whispering: "Oh, it is beautiful here in spring, in summer, in autumn, and in winter." And his mind would paint a hundred pictures of all that he had seen. Ja, det var deiligt! og den lille Pige viste Alting til Drengen, og altid duftede Hyldetræet og altid vaiede det røde Flag med det hvide Kors, Flaget, hvorunder den gamle Sømand i Nyboder havde seilet; - og Drengen blev Knøs, og han skulde ud i den vide Verden, langveis bort til de varme Lande, hvor Kaffeen groer; men i Afskeden tog den lille Pige en Hyldeblomst af sit Bryst, gav ham den at gjemme og den blev lagt i Psalmebogen, og altid i fremmed Land, naar han aabnede Bogen, var det just paa det Sted, hvor Erindringsblomsten laae, og jo mere han saae paa den, des friskere blev den; han ligesom følte en Duft fra de danske Skove, og tydeligt saae han mellem Blomsterbladene den lille Pige titte frem med sine klare blaa Øine, og hun hvidskede da: "her er deiligt i Vaar, i Sommer, i Høst og Vinter!" og hundrede Billeder glede gjennem hans Tanker.
Many years went by, the young man became an old man who sat underneath the elder tree with his wife. They held each other's hands, as the great-grandfather and great-grandmother from the "new cottages" had. They talked of bygone times and how it soon would be their golden anniversary. The little girl with the big blue eyes and the wreath of elder blossoms in her hair sat up in the tree and nodded kindly down at them. "Today is your golden wedding day," she declared, and took two elderberry flowers from her wreath and kissed them. First they shone like silver and then like gold; she put one on each of the old couple's heads and they became golden crowns. The old man and the old woman sat like a king and queen under the fragrant elder tree. The old man told his wife the story of Mother Elderberry as it had been told to him when he was a little boy. And they both realized that much of the story could have been about themselves, and that was the part they liked best. Saaledes gik mange Aar, og han var nu en gammel Mand og sad med sin gamle Kone under et blomstrende Træ; de holdt hinanden i Hænderne, ligesom Oldefader og Oldemoder gjorde det ude i Nyboder, og de talte ligesom de om de gamle Dage, og om Guldbrylluppet; den lille Pige med de blaae Øine og med Hyldeblomsterne i Haaret sad oppe i Træet, nikkede til dem begge to, og sagde: "i Dag er det Guldbryllupsdag!" og saa tog hun to Blomster af sin Krands, kyssede paa dem, og de skinnede først som Sølv, saa som Guld, og da hun lagde dem paa de gamle Folks Hoveder, blev hver Blomst til en Guldkrone; der sad de, begge to som en Konge og en Dronning, under det duftende Træ, der ganske og aldeles saae ud som et Hyldetræ, og han fortalte sin gamle Kone Historien om Hyldemoer, saaledes som den var fortalt ham, da han var en lille Dreng, og de syntes begge to, at der var saa meget i den, som lignede deres egen, og det der lignede, det syntes de bedst om.
"Well," said the little girl in the tree, "some people call me Mother Elderberry; others call me the dryad; but my real name is memory. I sit in the tree that grows and grows; I can remember everything and therefore I can tell stories. Now let me see, do you still have your flower?" "Ja, saadan er det!" sagde den lille Pige i Træet, "Nogle kalde mig Hyldemoer, Andre kalde mig Dryade, men egentlig hedder jeg Erindring, det er mig, der sidder i Træet, som voxer og voxer, jeg kan huske, jeg kan fortælle! Lad mig see, om du har din Blomst, endnu!"
The old man opened his hymnbook and there lay the elder flower, as fresh as if it had just been put there. Memory nodded and the setting sun shone on the heads of the two old people who were wearing golden crowns. They closed their eyes and then . . . Well, then the fairy tale is over. Og den gamle Mand aabnede sin Psalmebog, der laae Hyldeblomsten, saa frisk, som den nylig var lagt deri, og Erindringen nikkede, og de to Gamle med Guldkrone paa sad i den rode Aftensol; de lukkede Øinene, og - og -! ja saa var Eventyret ude!
The little boy lay in his bed; he didn't quite know whether he had dreamed the last part of the story or whether it had been told to him. The teapot stood on the table, but no elder tree was growing out of it. And the old man who had told him the story was about to go out through the door; it closed, and he was gone. Den lille Dreng laae i sin Seng, han vidste ikke, om han havde drømt, eller om han havde hørt det fortælle; Tbeepotten stod paa Bordet, men der voxte intet Hyldetræ ud af den, og den gamle Mand, som havde fortalt, var lige ved at gaae ud af Døren, og det gjorde han.
"Mother, it was wonderful," said the little boy. "I have been in the warm countries." "Hvor det var deiligt!" sagde den lille Dreng. "Moder, jeg har været i de varme Lande!"
"I will believe that," laughed his mother. "If one drinks two big cups of elder tea, it is no wonder!" Then she tucked the blankets around him so he wouldn't be cold. "I think you fell asleep while we were arguing about whether the story was a proper fairy tale or not." "Ja, det troer jeg nok!" sagde Moderen, "naar man faaer to svingende Kopper Hyldethee til Livs, saa kommer man nok til de varme Lande!" - og hun dækkede godt til om ham, at han ikke skulde forkjøle sig. "Du har nok sovet, mens jeg sad og med ham, om det var en Historie eller et Eventyr!"
"And where is Mother Elderberry?" asked the boy. "0g hvor er Hyldemoer?" spurgte Drengen.
"She is in the teapot," answered the mother, "and there she can stay." "Hun er paa Theepotten!" sagde Moderen, "og der kan hun blive!"

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