| There was such a commotion
in the duck pond that you would think some great event was taking
place. It wasn't; there is no accounting for ducks, you never
know what they will do next. All the ducks who had been peacefully
swimming or standing on their heads in the water--that is a
trick that ducks know how to do--suddenly, all at the same time,
swam toward land and ran away. In the mud on the shore you could
see the imprint of their feet. One moment before, the pond had
been like a mirror. In it you had been able to see every tree,
every bush that grew along its banks, and in the background
had been the gable of an old cottage with a swallow's nest under
the eaves, but clearest of all had been the rose tree whose
branches hung out over the water. It had looked like a painting,
but on its head, of course. Now all was in motion, all the colors
were mixed, and the picture had disappeared. Two duck feathers
that had fallen from a fleeing drake were sailing on the surface;
they turned about as if the wind were blowing, but it wasn't,
so they soon lay still and the pond turned into a mirror again.
Again the upside-down picture appeared: the gable of the cottage
with its swallow's nest and the rose tree. Every flowering rose
was beautiful, but they didn't know it themselves, for no one
had told them about it. The sun shone among their leaves that
were so fragrant, and every rose felt as we do when we are having
the pleasantest daydreams. |
Man skulde rigtignok
troe at der var noget paa Færde i Gadekjæret, men der var ikke
noget paa Færde! Alle Ænderne, ligesom de allerbedst laae paa
Vandet, nogle stode paa Hovedet, for det kunne de, satte med
Eet lige i Land; man kunde see i det vaade Leer Sporene af deres
Fødder, og man kunde høre et langt Stykke borte at de skreg.
Vandet kom ordentlig i Bevægelse, og nylig var det blank, som
et Speilglas, man saae deri hvert Træ, hver Busk tæt ved, og
det gamle Bondehuus med Hullerne i Gavlen og Svalereden, men
især det store Rosentræ fuldt af Blomster, der hang fra Muren
næsten lige ud over Vandet, og deri stod det Hele, ligesom et
Skilderi, men Altsammen paa Hovedet; og da Vandet kom i Uro,
saa løb det ene i det andet, hele Billedet var væk. To Andefjer,
der faldt af Ænderne, som fløi, vippede ordentlig op og ned,
med Eet toge de Fart, ligesom om der var Vind, men der var ingen
Vind, og saa laa de stille, og Vandet blev speilglat igjen,
man saae tydeligt Gavlen med Svalereden, og Rosentræet saae
man; hver Rose speilede sig; de vare saa deilige, men de vidste
det ikke selv, for Ingen havde sagt dem det. Solen skinnede
ind imellem de fine Blade, der var saa fyldte med Duft; og det
var for hver Rose, ligesom for os, naar vi ere ret lyksalige
henne i Tanker. |
| "How lovely it is to
be alive," said one of the roses. "I wish I could kiss the sun,
because it is so beautiful. The roses down in the water I would
like to kiss too; they look exactly like us. And the sweet little
birds in the nest. They are beginning to chirp, though they
have no feathers like their mother and father yet. Both the
nest in the water and the one above us on the gable are our
good neighbors. . . . Oh, how lovely it is to be alive!" |
"Hvor det er deiligt
at være til!" sagde hver Rose, "det Eneste jeg veed at ønske,
er at jeg kunde kysse Solen, fordi den er saa varm og klar.
- Ja, Roserne dernede i Vandet vilde jeg ogsaa kysse! de ligne
os ganske accurat; jeg vilde kysse de søde Fugleunger dernede
i Reden; ja der er ogsaa nogle oven over os! de stikke Hovederne
ud og pippe saa smaat; de have slet ingen Fjer, som deres Fader
og Moder. Det er gode Naboer, vi have, baade dem oven over og
neden under. 0, hvor det er delligt at være til!" |
| The little birds in
the nest--both the ones above and those below In the water,
who were merely a reflection--were sparrows and so were their
father and mother. They had found the empty swallow's nest and
made themselves at home in it. |
De smaa Unger oppe og
nede, - ja de nede var kun Skin i Vandet, -vare Spurve, Fader
og Moder vare Spurve; de havde taget den tomme Svalerede fra
ifjor, i den laa de og vare hjemme. |
| "Are those ducklings
swimming about?" asked the little sparrows when they saw the
two duck feathers that were floating on the pond. |
"Er det Ællingebørn,
som svømme der?" spurgte Spurveungerne, da de saae Andefjerene
drive paa Vandet. |
| "Be sensible when you
ask questions," snapped the mother. "Can't you see they are
feathers, just like the ones I wear? You, too, will grow feathers;
but ours are of a better quality than ducks'! I wish we had
them up here in the nest though, they would be handy on a cold
night. I wonder what frightened the ducks so? Probably something
in the water. But it could also have been me; that last peep
I said was awfully loud. Those fatheaded roses ought to be able
to tell us, but they don't know anything; nor do they ever do
anything, all day long, but look at themselves in the mirror
and smell. . . . I am bored with our neighbors." |
"Gjør fornuftige Spørgsmaal
naar I spørge," sagde Moderen; "See I ikke, at det er Fjer,
levende Kjoletøi, som jeg har det og I faae det, men vort er
finere! Gid vi ellers havde dem heroppe i Reden, for de varme.
Jeg gad vide hvad det var, som forskrækkede Ænderne! der maa
have været noget i Vandet, for mig var det vist ikke! skjøndt
jeg sagde rigtig nok noget stærkt "pip" til Jer! De tykhovedede
Roser burde vide det, men de veed ingen Ting, de see kun paa
sig selv og lugte. Jeg er inderlig kjed af de Naboer!" |
| "Listen to the sweet
little birds," said the roses. "I think they are beginning to
sing. They haven't caught the tune yet; but they will. It must
be nice to be musical. It's lovely to have such happy neighbors."
|
"Hør de søde smaa Fugle
deroppe!" sagde Roserne, "de begynde nu ogsaa paa at ville synge!
- De kunne ikke, men det kommer nok! -Hvor det maa være en stor
Fornøielse! Det er ganske morsomt at have saadanne lystige Naboer!"
|
| Just then two horses
came galloping down to the pond to drink. A farmer's boy was
riding on one of them. He had taken off his clothes and was
quite naked except for a broad-brimmed black hat on his head.
He was whistling as if he, too, were a bird; and he rode right
out to the deepest part of the pond. When he passed the rose
tree he broke off a flower and stuck it in his hat. As he rode
away the other roses wondered where she was going, but none
of them could guess. |
I Gallop kom i det samme
to Heste, de skulde vandes; en Bondedreng sad paa den ene, og
han havde taget alle sine Klæder af undtagen sin sorte Hat;
den var saa stor og bred. Drengen fløitede ligesom om han var
en lille Fugl, og red saa ud i det dybeste af Gadekjæret; og
da han kom over mod Rosentræet, rev han en af Roserne af og
stak op i Hatten, saa troede han at være rigtig pyntet, og red
saa bort med den. De andre Roser saae efter deres Søster, og
spurgte hinanden: "hvor reiste hun hen?" men det vidste Ingen.
|
| "I would like to travel
out into the world too," said the roses to each other, "but
it is pleasant here at home. In the daytime the sun shines warmly
down on us, and at night it shines even more beautifully through
the holes in the sky." |
"Jeg gad nok komme ud
i Verden!" sagde den Ene til den Anden, "men her hjemme i vort
eget Grønne er ogsaa deiligt! om Dagen er Solen saa varm og
om Natten skinner Himlen endnu smukkere i det kan vi see igjennem
de mange smaa Huller, der er paa den!" |
| It was the stars that
the roses thought were holes in the sky; they did not know any
better. |
Det var Stjernerne,
som de troede hver vare et Hul, for Roserne vidste det ikke
bedre. |
| "It is amusing to have
us around the house," said the mother sparrow. "A swallow's
nest brings luck, people say; and therefore they are happy to
have us. But a rose tree growing so close to the wall makes
it damp. But they will probably cut it down; and then they could
sow a little grain there. Roses are only something to look at,
smell, or at best to stick in your hat. Every year they fall
off, so my mother told me. The farmer's wife preserves them
with salt and then they are called something in French, which
I cannot pronounce nor would I care to if I could; sometimes
they are put in the fireplace to make a room smell nicely. That
is their life, they are just something for the eyes and nose.
And now you know all there is to know about them." |
"Vi live op om Huset,"
sagde Spurvemoderen, "og Svalereder bringe Lykke," sige Folk;
"derfor ere de glade ved at have os! men de Naboer der, saadan
en heel Rosenbusk op ad Muren, sætter Fugtighed; jeg tænker
den kommer nok bort, saa kan der dog groe et Korn. Roser ere
kun at see paa og at lugte til, eller i det høieste at stikke
i Hatten. Hvert Aar, det veed jeg fra min Moder, saa falde de
af, Bondekonen sylter dem med Salt, de faae et fransk Navn,
som jeg ikke kan sige, og heller ikke bryder mig om; og saa
lægges de paa Ilden, naar der skal lugte godt. See, det er deres
Levnetsløb! de ere bare for Øine og Næse. Nu veed I det!" |
| In the evening when
the mosquitoes were dancing above the waters of the pond, the
nightingale came. He sang for the roses and his song was about
the warm sunshine and how that which is beautiful never can
die. But the roses thought that the nightingale sang about himself
and that was not so strange. They did not think for a moment
that the serenade was for them, but that did not make them appreciate
it less. They wondered if all the little sparrows up in the
nest might not turn out to be nightingales. |
Da det blev Aften og
Myggene dandsede i den varme Luft, hvor Skyerne vare saa røde,
kom Nattergalen og sang for Roserne: at det Skjønne var som
Solskinnet i denne Verden; og at det Skjønne levede altid. Men
Roserne troede at Nattergalen sang om sig selv og det kunde
man jo ogsaa tænke. Det faldt dem slet ikke ind, at det var
dem, der skulde have Sangen, men glade vare de ved den og tænkte
paa, om ikke alle de smaa Spurve-Unger ogsaa kunde blive til
Nattergaler. |
| "We understood the whole
song," said the little sparrows, "except for one word: 'beauty'!
What does that mean?" |
"Jeg forstod meget godt
hvad den Fugl sang!" sagde Spurveungerne, "der var bare et Ord,
jeg ikke forstod: Hvad er det Skjønne?" |
| "Nothing!" said their
mother. "It is merely appearance. . . . Up at the castle where
the doves have their own house--there birds are fed peas and
grain every afternoon; I sometimes dine with them, and I will
take you up there as soon as you can fly, for it is important
to be seen in good company: tell me who your friends are and
I will tell you who you are.--Well, up at the castle, as I was
about to say, they have two birds; each has a green tail and
a crest on its head; the tails can be spread out like a big
wheel; and then, it has so many bright colors that it hurts
your eyes. They are peacocks, and they are called beautiful.
But if you plucked them a bit, then they would look no different
from the rest of us. I would pluck their feathers off if they
weren't so big." |
"Det er Ingenting!"
sagde Spurvemoderen, "det er bare saadanne et Udseende. Oppe
paa Herregaarden, hvor Duerne har deres eget Huus, og hver Dag
faae Ærter og Korn strøet i Gaarden, - jeg har spiist med dem
og det skal I ogsaa komme til! siig mig, hvem Du omgaaes, saa
skal jeg sige dig, hvem Du er! der oppe paa Herregaarden har
de to Fugle med grønne Halse og en Top paa Hovedet; Halen kan
brede sig ud, som var den et stort Hjul, og den har alle Couleurer,
saa at det gjør ondt i Øinene; Paafugle kaldes de, og de er
det Skjønne! De skulde pilles lidt, da saae de ikke anderledes
ud, end vi andre. Jeg havde hugget dem, dersom de ikke havde
været saa store!" |
| |
"Jeg vil hugge dem!"
sagde den mindste Spurveunge og han havde endnu ikke Fjer. |
| In the cottage lived
a young couple who were very fond of each other. They were content,
hard-working, and kept the cottage clean and cozy--everything
about them was pleasant. Sunday morning the young wife picked
a bouquet of roses and put them in a water glass, which she
placed on the large chest in which their winter clothes were
packed. |
Inde i Bondehuset boede
to unge Folk; de holdt saa meget af hinanden, de vare saa flittige
og raske, der var saa nydeligt hos dem. Søndagmorgen gik den
unge Kone ud, tog en heel Haandfuld af de smukkeste Roser, satte
dem i Vandglasset og stillede det midt paa Dragkisten. |
| "Now I know that it's
Sunday," laughed her husband, and kissed her. Later in the day
he read to her from the Book of Psalms, and the two of them
sat hand in hand, while the warm sun shone in through the windows.
|
"Nu kan jeg see, det
er Søndag!" sagde Manden, kyssede sin søde, lille Kone, og de
satte sig ned, læste en Psalme, holdt hinanden i Hænderne, og
Solen skinnede ind af Vinduerne paa de friske Roser og paa de
unge Folk. |
| "It is a bore to look
at," declared the mother sparrow, and flew away. |
"Det er jeg kjed af
at see paa!" sagde Graaspurve-Moderen, som fra Reden kiggede
lige ind i Stuen; og saa fløi hun. |
| Next Sunday the same
thing happened, for every summer Sunday the young woman plucked
roses, though there never seemed to be fewer flowers on the
tree afterward, nor was it less beautiful. For the young sparrows,
however, this Sunday was different. They had feathers and wanted
to follow their mother when she left the nest. "You stay here!"
she ordered; and then she flew away. All at once, she was no
longer flying, no matter how much she moved her wings. Unluckily,
she had been caught in a bird snare of horsehair that some boys
had suspended from the branch of a tree. The horsehair tightened
around her legs; it felt as if it would cut her left leg off.
It was very painful, and the poor sparrow beat wildly with her
wings. The boys came running out of their hiding place, and
one of them took hold of the bird and squeezed it. "It is only
a sparrow," he said with disappointment to the others. But they
did not let her go. Every time the sparrow peeped, one of the
boys hit it across its bill. |
Det samme gjorde hun
næste Søndag, thi hver Søndag kom der friske Roser i Glasset
og altid blomstrede Rosenhækken lige smukt; Spurve-Ungerne,
der nu havde faaet Fjer, vilde gjerne flyve med, men Moderen
sagde: "I blive!" og saa bleve de. - Hun fløi, men hvordan hun
nu fløi eller ikke, med eet hang hun fast i en Fuglesnare af
Hestehaar, som nogle Drenge havde bun det paa en Green. Hestehaarene
trak sig fast om Benet, o saa fast, som om det skulde skjæres
over; det var en Pine, det var en Skræk; Drengene sprang lige
til og greb Fuglen, og de greb saa gruelig haardt. "Det er ikke
andet, end en Spurv!" sagde de, men de lode den dog ikke flyve
igjen, de gik hjem med den og hver Gang den skreg, sloge de
den paa Næbet. |
| When they arrived at
the farmyard where one of them lived, there was a traveling
hawker there. He knew the art of making soap: both the ordinary
kinds and the ones used for shaving. He was a merry old man
who still liked playing tricks as much as boys did. When he
saw the sparrow and heard that the children didn't care for
it, he said: "Shall we make it beautiful?" The mother sparrow
shuddered when she heard that word. The old man took some powder
for the making of bronze gilt, which he kept in his box of colors
and paints. He sent the boys into the farmhouse for an egg,
of which he took only the white and smeared it on the bird,
so that the gilt would stick to the poor creature's feathers.
From the red lining of his own old coat, the soapmaker cut a
cock's comb and stuck it on the sparrow's head. |
Inde i Bondegaarden
stod der en gammel Karl, der forstod at lave Sæbe til Skjægget
og til Hænderne, Sæbe i Kugler og Sæbe i Stykker. Det var saadan
en omvandrende lystig gammel En, og da han saae Graaspurven,
som Drengene kom med, og som de sagde at de slet ikke brød sig
om, sagde han: "skal vi gjøre den skjøn" og det gjøs i Spurvemoderen,
da han sagde det. Og op af sin Kasse, hvori der laae de deiligste
Couleurer, tog han en heel Mængde skinnende Bogguld, og Drengene
maatte løbe ind at skaffe et Æg, og af det tog han Hviden og
den smurte han hele Fuglen over med, og klinede saa Bogguldet
paa, saa var Spurvemoderen forgyldt; men hun tænkte ikke paa
den Stads, hun rystede over alle Lemmer. Og Sæbemanden tog en
rød Lap, han rev den af Foret i sin gamle Trøie, klippede Lappen
til en takket Hanekam, og klistrede den paa Hovedet af Fuglen.
|
| "Now let us see the
golden bird fly," he said, and let the poor bird free. Terrified,
the sparrow flew up into the clear sunshine. Goodness! How brightly
it shone. The other sparrows and even an old crow, who was no
fledgling, got so frightened at the sight that they fled, but
not very far. Soon they were following the poor sparrow to see
what would happen. |
"Nu skal I see Guldfuglen
flyve!" sagde han og slap Graaspurven, der i den grueligste
Forfærdelse fløi afsted i det klare Solskin. Nei, hvor den skinnede!
alle Graaspurve, selv en stor Krage, og det ingen Aars Unge,
bleve ganske forskrækkede for det Syn, men de fløi dog bag efter,
for de vilde vide hvad det var for en fremmed Fugl. |
| "Where do you come from?
Where do you come from?" screamed the crow. |
"Hvorfra! hvorfra!"
skreg Kragen. |
| "Wait for us! Wait for
us!" chirped the other sparrows. But the poor mother sparrow
would not wait; in terror, she was flying home to her nest.
The gilding made it hard for her to fly and she sank closer
and closer toward the earth. More and more birds were following
her, both big ones and small ones; some of them flew up to her
and pecked her with their bills and all of them screamed, "Look
at her! Look at her!" |
"Tøv lidt! tøv lidt!"
sagde Spurvene. Men den vilde ikke tøve lidt; i Angest og Forfærdelse
fløi hun hjemad; hun var nærved at synke til Jorden og altid
kom der flere Fugle til, smaa og store; nogle fløi lige tæt
ind paa den for at hugge løs. "See'ken. en! see'ken en!" skreg
de Allesammen! |
| "Look at her! Look at
her!" screamed her own little ones when the poor mother sparrow
came near her nest. "It is a peacock chick! Look at her colors!
They hurt our eyes just as Mother said they would. It is the
beautiful!" And the little sparrows pecked with their beaks,
at their own mother and prevented her from taking refuge in
her own nest. She was so frightened that she could not even
utter a peep to tell them who she was. The other birds pecked
at her now too. Soon most of her feathers were gone and, bleeding,
she fell down into the rose tree. |
"See'ken en! see'ken
en!" skreg Ungerne, da hun kom henimod Reden, "Det er bestemt
en Paafugle-Unge, der ere alle Couleurer, som skjære i Øinene,
som Moer sagde: pip! det er det Skjønne!" Og saa huggede de
med deres smaa Næb, saa at det ikke blev muligt for hende at
slippe ind, og hun var saaledes af Forfærdelse, at hun ikke
længer kunde sige pip, end sige: jeg er Eders Moder. De andre
Fugle huggede den nu alle, saa hver Fjer gik af, og blodig sank
Spurvemoderen ned i Rosenhækken. |
| "Poor little bird,"
said the roses. "We will hide you. Lean your head against us."
|
"Det stakkels Dyr!"
sagde Roserne. "Kom vi skulle skjule Dig! Held dit lille Hoved
op til os!" |
| The sparrow spread out
her wings once more and then closed them tight against her body;
and died among her neighbors, the roses. |
Spurvemoderen bredte
endnu engang Vingerne ud, knugede dem saa fast til sig igjen
og var død hos Nabofamilien, de friske, smukke Roser. |
| "Peep . . . peep," said
the little sparrows in the nest. "Where is our mother? I wonder
if this is a way of telling us that we can take care of ourselves.
Well, she has left us the house; but which one of us is to keep
it, to live in, when all four of us have a family?" |
"Pip!" sagde Spurveungerne
i Reden. "Hvor Mutter bliver af, det kan jeg ikke begribe! Det
skulde dog ikke være et Fif af hende, at vi nu maae skøtte os
selv. Huset har hun ladet os beholde til Arvepart! men hvem
af os skal have det alene, naar vi faae Familie." |
| "I can't have the rest
of you here when I take myself a wife and have children," said
the smallest of them. |
"Ja, jeg kan ikke have
Jer Andre her, naar jeg udvider mig med Kone og Børn!" sagde
den mindste. |
| "I will have more wives
and children than you will ever get," said the second one. |
"Jeg faaer nok flere
Koner og Børn end Du!" sagde den anden. |
| "But I am the oldest,"
said the third. The argument soon became a fight; they flapped
their wings and pecked each other with their little beaks until
three of them had fallen out of the nest. There they lay on
the ground, as angry as could be, with their heads drawn in
among their feathers, so that they looked as though they had
no necks at all, and they blinked constantly, which was their
way of looking sulky. |
"Men jeg er ældst!"
sagde en tredie. Allesammen kom de op at skjændes, de sloge
med Vingerne, huggede med Næbet, og bums, saa blev den ene efter
den anden puffet ud af Reden. Der laae de, og vrede vare de;
Hovedet hældte de heelt om paa den ene Side og saa plirrede
det Øie, som vendte op; det var nu deres Maade at mule paa.
|
| They could fly a little;
and after they had practiced a bit, they decided that when they
met out in the world they would say, "Peep," and then scratch
the earth three times with their left legs, so that they could
recognize each other. |
Lidt kunde de flyve,
og saa øvede de sig noget mere, og bleve tilsidst enige om,
at for at kunne kjende hinanden igjen naar de mødtes i Verden,
vilde de sige: pip! og skrabe tre Gange med det venstre Been. |
| The sparrow who had
won the fight spread himself out in the nest; after all, he
was the owner of property now, though that honor did not last
long. That very night the house burned. The flames shot out
from underneath the thatch roof and soon the whole house was
engulfed in fire. The swallow's nest with the little sparrow
in it burned to ashes, but the young people got out safely. |
Den Unge, som blev tilbage
i Reden, gjorde sig saa bred den kunde, den var jo nu Huuseier,
men længe varede det ikke. Om Natten skinnede den røde Ild gjennem
Ruderne, Flammerne sloge frem under Taget, det tørre Straa gik
op i Lue, hele Huset brændte, og Spurveungen med, derimod kom
de unge Folk lykkelig bort. |
| When the sun rose, after
the mild summer night, all that was left of the cottage were
a few charred beams leaning up against the chimney, who, being
alone, was now his own master. The ruins were still smoking,
but the rose tree had not been hurt. It stood as green and flowered
as beautifully, and mirrored itself, as ever, in the still pond.
|
Da Solen næste Morgen
var oppe og Alt syntes saa forfrisket som efter en mild Nattesøvn,
stod der af Bondehuset ikke andet tilbage, end nogle sorte,
forkullede Bjælker, der hældede sig op til Skorstenen, som var
sin egen Herre; det røg stærkt fra Grunden, men foran den stod
frisk og blomstrende det hele Rosentræ, der speilede hver Green
og hver Blomst i det stille Vand. |
| "How beautiful that
rose tree is, in front of the house that burned down," exclaimed
a young man. "That is a beautiful picture." And he took out
his sketchbook, for he was a painter. He drew the charred beams,
the naked chimney, and the smoke that rose from the ashes. In
the foreground of the picture stood the rose tree in full bloom.
It looked beautiful; but after all, it was the one who had inspired
the painter. |
"Nei hvor deiligt de
Roser staae der foran det nedbrændte Huus!" raabte en Mand,
som kom forbi. "Det er det yndigste lille Billede! det maa jeg
have!" og Manden tog op af Lommen en lille Bog med hvide Blade,
og han tog sin Blyant, for han var en Maler, og tegnede saa
det rygende Gruus, de forkullede Bjælker op til den hældende
Skorsteen, for den hældede meer og meer, men allerforrest stod
den store, blomstrende Rosenhæk, den var rigtignok deilig, og
var jo ogsaa ene Skyld i at det Hele blev tegnet. |
| Later in the day, two
of the sparrows that had been born there came flying by. "Where
is the nest?" they peeped. "Where is the house? Peep! . . .
Everything has burned down and even our strong brother has burned;
that is his punishment for wanting the nest. Only the roses
escaped; look at their red cheeks, they are not mourning for
their neighbors. We won't talk to them. In our opinion this
place is ugly!" And they flew away. |
Op ad Dagen kom forbi
to af Graaspurvene, som vare fødte her. "Hvor er Huset?" sagde
de, "hvor er Reden? - Pip, Alting er brændt op og vor stærke
Broder er brændt med! det fik han fordi han beholdt Reden. -
Roserne ere slupne godt fra det! de staae endnu med røde Kinder.
De sørge da ikke for Naboens Ulykke. Ja jeg taler ikke til dem,
og grimt er her, det er min Mening!" Saa fløi de. |
| One warm fall afternoon,
when the sun was shining as though it were summer and the courtyard
of the castle had been newly raked, the doves were walking about,
pecking at the ground, in front of the big granite steps that
led to the entrance of the castle. "Form groups! Form groups!"
the pigeon mothers were continually admonishing their young
ones. They believed they looked more beautiful that way. |
Ud paa Efteraaret var
det en deilig Solskinsdag, man kunde ordenlig tro, man var midt
i Sommeren. Der var saa tørt og reent i Gaarden foran den store
Trappe hos Herremandens, og der gik Duerne, baade sorte og hvide
og violette, de glindsede i Solskinnet og de gamle Duemødre
brusede sig op og sagde til Ungerne, "staa i Gruppe! staa i
Gruppe!" -for saa toge de sig bedre ud. |
| "What are the little
gray ones called, that are always running about among us?" asked
a young dove. |
"Hvad er det smaa Graa,
der løber mellem os?" spurgte en gammel Due, som havde Rødt
og Grønt igjennem Øinene. "Smaa Graa! smaa Graa!" sagde hun.
|
| "Small gray ones?" said
an older pigeon with red and green speckled eyes. "Why, they
are sparrows, harmless little things. We have a reputation for
piety, that is why we don't chase them away. But they know their
station and they scrape so prettily with their little legs." |
"Det er Spurve! skikkelige
Dyr! vi have altid havt Ord for at være fromme, og saa faae
vi lade dem pille op! - De tale ikke med og skrabe saa net med
Benet!" |
| Three little sparrows
were standing nearby and they did scratch the ground three times
with their left legs and say, "Peep!" Then they knew they were
from the same nest. |
Ja de skrabede, tre
Gange skrabede de med det venstre Been, men de sagde ogsaa Pip
og saa kjendte de hverandre, det var tre Spurve fra det afbrændte
Huus. |
| "A very good place to
eat," remarked one of them. |
"Her er overmaade godt
at æde!" sagde Spurvene. |
| The doves walked in
circles around each other, throwing out their chests. Every
one of them had an opinion of all the others; and not one was
pleasant to hear. |
Og Duerne gik rundt
om hverandre, brystede sig og havde indvendig Mening. |
| "Look at her! How greedily
she eats! She will get sick from all those peas." "Coo! She
is losing her feathers; she will be bald soon! Coo! Coo!" They
glanced at each other with eyes red with rage, while they shouted
to their young ones: "Form groups! Form groups!" "Look at those
little gray things! Coo!" they cried with contempt. Such was
the pigeon talk then, and such it will be a thousand years hence. |
"Seer du Brysteduen?"
sagde den ene om den anden, "og seer du hende, hvor hun sluger
Ærter? hun faaer for mange! hun faaer de bedste! kurr kurr!
seer du hvor hun der bliver skaldet i Kammen! seer du det søde,
det arrige Dyr! knurre, knurre!" og saa skinnede paa dem Allesammen
Øinene røde af Arrighed. "Staa i Gruppe, staa i Gruppe! Smaa
Graa! smaa Graa! Knurre, knurre, kurre!" gik det i et Væk og
saaledes gaaer det endnu om tusinde Aar. |
| The sparrows ate and
listened, they even tried forming groups; but the result was
not decorative. When they had eaten their fill, they flew in
a flock far enough away not to be heard by the doves and there
they expressed their opinion of them. Then they flew up on the
garden wall and looked out over it. The broad glass french doors
of one of the rooms stood open. One of the sparrows flew down
and landed right on the doorstep. He had overeaten and that
gave him courage. "Peep," he said. "Look how bold I am!" "Peep!"
replied the second sparrow. "I dare do that too, and a little
more." And with those words he flew a few feet inside the castle.
The room was empty, and therefore the third sparrow flew in
even farther, while it chirped, "All the way or it doesn't count!"
"What a funny place the nest of a human being is. But what is
that over there? Look at it!" |
Graaspurvene spiste
godt, og de hørte godt, ja de stillede sig endogsaa op, men
det klædte ikke; mætte vare de; saa gik de fra Duerne og sagde
indbyrdes deres Mening om dem, hoppede saa ind under Havestakittet,
og da Døren der til Havestuen stod aaben, hoppede den ene op
paa Dørtrinet, han var overmæt og derfor modig: "pip!" sagde
han, "det tør jeg!" - "pip!" sagde den anden, "det tør jeg ogsaa
og lidt til!" og saa hoppede han ind i Stuen. Der var ingen
Folk derinde, det saae den tredie nok, og saa fløi han endnu
længer op i Stuen og sagde: "heelt ind, eller slet ikke! det
er ellers en løierlig Menneske-Rede den! og hvad her er stillet
op! nei hvad er det!" |
| There was the flowering
rose tree, the ruins of the house with the chimney still standing,
and charred beams leaning against it. How had that got into
the castle hall? |
Lige foran Spurvene
blomstrede jo Roserne, de speilede sig der i Vandet, og de kullede
Bjælker laae op til den faldefærdige Skorsteen! -Nei, hvad var
dog dette! hvor kom det ind i Herregaards-Stuen? |
| All three of them wanted
to fly up to it, but the first one who did hit the wall, for
it was only a painting, which the painter had made from the
little sketch he had drawn. It was a lovely work of art. |
Og alle tre Spurve vilde
flyve hen over Roser og Skorsteen, men det var en flad Væg,
de fløi imod; det Hele var et Maleri, et stort, prægtigt Stykke,
som Maleren havde gjort efter sin lille Tegning. |
| "Peep," said the sparrows.
"It is nothing! It only appears to be something. It is what
they call the beautiful, whatever that means; we don't understand
it!" And with those words the three sparrows flew out of the
room, for they heard someone coming. |
"Pip!" sagde Spurvene,
"det er Ingenting! det seer bare ud! Pip! det er det Skjønne!
Kan du begribe det, for jeg kan ikke!" og saa fløi de, for der
kom Mennesker i Stuen. |
| Days and years passed.
The doves cooed, and the sparrows lived on the fat of the land
in summer and froze through the winter. They had all become
engaged or married or whatever such relationships are called
between sparrows. Children they had, and each couple claimed
that theirs were the prettiest, the cleverest little sparrows
in the whole world. Whenever the three from the same nest met,
they recognized each other by scratching three times with their
left legs and saying, "Peep!" By now the oldest sparrow was
so old that she no longer had a mate, nest, or children; and
therefore she decided to move to a city to find out what that
was like, so she flew to Copenhagen. |
Nu gik der baade Aar
og Dag, Duerne havde mange Gange kurret, for ikke at sige knurret,
de arrige Dyr! Graaspurvene havde frosset om Vinteren og levet
høit om Sommeren; de vare allesammen forlovede eller gifte,
eller hvad man nu vil kalde det. Unger havde de, og Enhvers
Unge var, naturligviis, den kjønneste og den klogeste; en fløi
her og en fløi der, og mødtes de, saa kjendtes de paa "pip!"
og tre Skrab med det venstre Been. Den ældste af dem, det var
nu saadan en gammel En, hun havde ingen Rede og hun havde ingen
Unger; hun vilde saa gjerne en Gang til en stor By og saa fløi
hun til Kjøbenhavn. |
| In Copenhagen there
was a large castle too, and near it was a building with frescoed
walls. It was in a pleasant area where there was a canal and
one could see sloops laden with apples and earthenware pots.
The old sparrow looked in through the windows of the strange
house; and she thought she was looking down into a tulip every
time, for each room was painted a different lovely color, and
in the center stood some white figures. They were of marble--that
is, some of them were; others were of plaster, but a sparrow
cannot see the difference. On top of the building was the Goddess
of Victory driving a chariot to which horses were harnessed;
it was in bronze. The sparrow had landed on the Museum of Thorvaldsen,
the great Danish sculptor. |
Der laa et stort Huus
med mange Couleurer; det laa lige ved Slottet og Canalen, hvor
der vare Skibe med Æbler og Potter. Vinduerne vare bredere for
neden end for oven, og kiggede Spurvene derind, saa var hver
Stue, syntes dem, ligesom om de saae ned i en Tulipan, alle
mulige Couleurer og Snirkler, og midt i Tulipanen stode hvide
Mennesker; de vare af Marmor, nogle vare ogsaa af Gips, men
det kommer ud paa Eet for Spurve-Øine. Oven paa Huset stod en
Metalvogn med Metalheste for, og Seirens Gudinde, ogsaa af Metal,
kjørte dem. Det var Thorvaldsens Musæum. |
| "How it shines, how
it shines!" chirped the sparrow. "I presume that it must be
the beautiful! Well, it is bigger than a peacock at least."
The sparrow still remembered what her mother had told her about
the nature of beauty. She flew down into the courtyard of the
museum; here the outside walls of the building were decorated
with paintings of palm trees. In the center of the yard grew
a rose tree. Its branches hung down over a grave. There three
sparrows were pecking at the ground trying to find a crumb;
she flew over to them. "Peep!" she said, and scratched the ground
three times with her left leg. She did this out of habit; she
was not really expecting to meet any of her family again; it
would be mere chance if one did, and not very likely. "Peep!"
replied the other sparrows, and they scratched the ground just
as she had done. |
"Hvor det skinner! hvor
det skinner!" sagde Spurvefrøkenen, "det er nok det Skjønne!
pip! her er det dog større end en Paafugl!" hun huskede endnu
paa fra Lille af, hvad der var det største Skjønne, Moderen
kjendte. Og hun fløi lige ned i Gaarden; der var ogsaa prægtigt,
der var malet Palmer og Grene op ad Væggene, og midt i Gaarden
stod en blomstrende stor Rosenbusk; den hældede sine friske
Grene med de mange Roser hen over en Grav; og hun fløi derhen,
for der gik flere Spurve, "pip!" og tre Skrab med det venstre
Been; den Hilsen havde hun mange Gange gjort i Aar og Dag, og
ingen havde forstaaet den, for de, som ere skildte ad, de træffes
ikke hver Dag - den Hilsen var blevet til Vane, men idag var
der to gamle Spurve og en Unge, der sagde "pip!" og skrabede
med det venstre Been. |
| "Wonderful to see you
again!" they all said to each other. Two of the sparrows were
her brothers and the third was a young niece. "It is a grand
place to meet! Peep! I think this must be the beautiful; there
is not much to eat here. Peep!" |
"Ih see god Dag, god
Dag!" det var tre Gamle fra Spurvereden og saa en lille en af
Familien. "Skal vi træffes her!" sagde de. "Det er et fornemt
Sted, men her er ikke meget at æde. Det er det Skjønne! pip!"
|
| People came out of the
side door of the museum, where they had been admiring the statues.
Their faces still shining from what they had seen, they looked
down at the grave of the sculptor who had created it. Some of
the people bent down to pick one of the rose petals that had
fallen on the grave, to take home as a memento. Many of the
visitors came from far away: from France, Germany, and England.
A beautiful young woman plucked a rose and pinned it to her
blouse. The sparrows, who had been watching everything that
went on, decided that the whole house had been built for the
sake of the roses. They thought that so much respect was rather
overdoing it, but since the human beings seemed to care so much
for roses, the sparrows didn't voice their opinion. "Peep .
. . Peep," they said, and even swept the grave with their little
tails, while they glanced, with one eye, up at the rose tree.
They hadn't looked at it long before they decided that it was
their old neighbor; and they were right. The painter who had
drawn the sketch of the ruined cottage and the rose tree in
full bloom had got permission to dig the rose tree up, because
he thought it was so beautiful, and have it planted on Thorvaldsen's
grave. And here it grew, with its fragrant red flowers, the
personification of beauty. |
Og der kom mange Folk
fra Sidekamrene, hvor de prægtige Marmorskikkelser stode, og
de gik hen til Graven, der gjemte den store Mester, som havde
formet Marmorstøtterne, og Alle som kom, stode med lysende Ansigter
om Thorvaldsens Grav, og Enkelte opsamlede de affaldne Rosenblade
og gjemte disse. Der vare Folk langveis fra; de kom fra det
store England, fra Tydskland og Frankerige; og den skjønneste
Dame tog en af Roserne, lagde den ved sit Bryst. Da troede Spurvene
at Roserne regjerede her, at det hele Huus var bygget for deres
Skyld, og det syntes de var rigtignok lidt for meget, men da
Menneskene allesammen gjorde af Roserne, saa vilde de ikke staae
tilbage. "Pip!" sagde de, feiede Gulvet med deres Hale, og saae
med det ene Øie paa Roserne; længe saae de ikke, før de vare
visse paa at det var de gamle Naboer; og det var det ogsaa.
Maleren, som havde tegnet Rosenbusken ved det nedbrændte Huus,
havde siden ud paa Aaret faaet Lov til at grave den op, og da
givet Bygmesteren den, thi ingen Roser var deiligere; og han
havde sat den paa Thorvaldsens Grav, hvor den, som Billedet
paa det Skjønne, blomstrede og gav sine røde, duftende Blade
at bæres som Erindring til fjerne Lande. |
| "Have you got a permanent
appointment?" asked the sparrows. And the roses nodded, for
they recognized their little gray neighbors and were happy to
see them again. |
"Har I faaet Ansættelse
herinde i Byen?" spurgte Spurvene. Og Roserne nikkede; de kjendte
de graae Naboer og bleve saa glade ved at see dem. |
| "How lovely it is to
be alive and to be in flower! How lovely it is to see kind faces
around you and have your old friends come to visit you! Every
day here is like a high holy day." |
"Hvor det er velsignet
at leve og blomstre, at see gamle Venner og hver Dag milde Ansigter!
Her er ligesom om det hver Dag var en stor Helligdag!" |
| "Peep!" said the sparrows.
"Here are our old neighbors. We remember them from the time
when they grew by the village pond. They have come far. See
how they are honored now. But it is all chance, not merit. What
is so marvelous in a red blotch? We can't see it. But there
is a dead leaf, we can see that." |
"Pip!" sagde Spurvene,
"jo det er de gamle Naboer! deres Herkomst fra Gadekjæret huske
vi! pip! hvor de ere komne til Ære! Somme komme da ogsaa sovende
til det. Og hvad Rart der er ved saadan en rød Klat, veed jeg
ikke! - Og der sidder da et vissent Blad, for det kan jeg see!" |
| One of the sparrows
flew up and pecked at the withered leaf until it fell off; and
the rose tree was even greener and lovelier than it had been
before. It bloomed on the grave of the artist, and its beauty
and fragrance mingled in men's memory with his immortal name.
|
Og saa nippede de i
det, saa at Bladet faldt af, og friskere og grønnere stod Træet,
og Roserne duftede i Solskinnet paa Thorvaldsens Grav, til hvis
udødelige Navn deres Skjønhed sluttede sig. |
|