| Have you ever heard
the story of the old street lamp? It is not really very amusing,
but one can bear to hear it once, anyway. There was once a respectable
old street lamp who had performed his duties faithfully and
well for many years; but now had been declared to be too old-fashioned.
This was the last evening that it would hang from the lamppost
and illuminate the street; and he felt like a ballerina who
was dancing for the last time and knew that tomorrow she would
be a has-been. The lamp was very frightened of the coming day,
for he had been told that he would be inspected by the six and
thirty men of the town council. They were to decide whether
the lamp was fit for further service and, if so, what kind.
They might suggest that he be hung over one of the lesser bridges,
or be sold to a factory, or condemned altogether, which meant
that he would be melted down. Then he would be made into something
else, of course; but what worried him was that he did not know
whether he would then be able to recall that he had been a street
lamp. No matter what happened to him, one thing was certain:
tomorrow he would be separated from the night watchman and his
wife, and that was a tragedy, for he considered them to be his
family. He had been hung on his lamppost the very year that
the man became a night watchman. His wife had been young and
snobbish. She would look at the street lamp at night but she
wouldn't so much as glance at it in daylight. During recent
years, however, when all three of them--the night watchman,
his wife, and the street lamp--had grown old, the wife had taken
care of the lamp: polished it and filled it with oil. The old
couple were an honest pair who had never cheated the lamp out
of a single drop of oil. This was to be the last night that
the old lamp would shine down upon the pavement. Tomorrow it
would be taken to a room in the town hall. These two facts made
the lamp feel so sad that he flickered. Other thoughts came:
memories of all he had seen. He had cast his light upon many
a curious sight and had seen more than all the six and thirty
men of the town council put together. But the old lamp would
never have expressed such a thought out loud, for he had the
greatest respect for the authorities. It is always pleasant
for the old to reminisce, and each time the lamp remembered
something different, the flame inside him seemed to grow brighter.
"They will remember me as I remember them," thought the lamp.
"Many years ago there was a young man who stood right under
me and opened a letter. It had been written on pink stationery
and the handwriting was a woman's. He read it twice; then he
kissed it. His eyes when he looked up at me said, 'I am the
happiest of all men.' He had received a love letter from the
girl he loved; and only he and I knew it. "I remember another
pair of eyes.--How strangely one's thoughts can jump!--There
had been a funeral. Someone who had lived in this street had
died: a young, rich woman. The hearse had been drawn by four
black horses and the coffin had been covered with flowers. The
mourners had walked behind it carrying torches, which had outshone
my light. But when the procession had passed and I thought the
street was deserted once more, I suddenly noticed someone standing
right under me and weeping. I shall never forget those sorrow-filled
eyes that stared right into me." Such were the thoughts--the
memories---of the old street lamp as it shone for the last time.
A sentry who is to be relieved of his duty is allowed to exchange
at least a few words with the man who will take his place. But
the lamp did not even know who his successor would be, so he
would not be able to give him a bit of advice about the wind,
and tell him from which corner it usually blew; or the moon,
and explain how it shone upon the sidewalk. |
Har Du hørt Historien
om den gamle Gadeløgte? Den er slet ikke saa overordentlig morsom,
men man kan altid høre den een Gang. Det var saadan en skikkelig
gammel Gadeløgte, som i mange, mange Aar havde gjort Tjeneste,
men nu skulde kasseres. Det var den sidste Aften, den sad paa
Pælen og lyste der i Gaden, og den var tilmode ligesom en gammel
Balletfigurantinde, som dandser den sidste Aften og veed at
imorgen skal hun paa Loftet. Løgten havde saadan en Skræk for
den Dag imorgen, thi da vidste den, at den skulde paa Raadstuen
for første Gang og synes af Stadens "sex og tredive Mænd", om
den var brugelig eller ikke brugelig. Da vilde det blive bestemt
om den skulde sendes ud paa en af Broerne og lyse der, eller
paa Landet i en Fabrik, maaskee gik den lige til en Jernstøber
og blev smeltet om, da kunde den jo rigtignok blive til Alting,
men det pinte den, at den ikke vidste om den da beholdt Erindringen
om, at den havde været Gadeløgte. -Hvorledes det gik eller ikke,
den vilde blive skilt fra Vægteren og hans Kone, hvem den betragtede
ganske som sin Familie. Den blev Løgte da han blev Vægter. Konen
var den Gang fiin paa det, kun om Aftenen naar hun gik forbi
Løgten saae hun til den, men aldrig om Dagen. Nu derimod, i
de sidste Aar, da de alle tre vare blevne gamle, Vægteren, Konen
og Løgten, havde Konen ogsaa pleiet den, pudset Lampen af og
skjænket Tran i den. Ærlige Folk var det Ægtepar, de havde ikke
bedraget Løgten for een Draabe. Det var den sidste Aften i Gaden
og imorgen skulde den paa Raad stuen, det var to mørke Tanker
for Løgten, og saa kan man nok vide hvorledes den brændte. Men
der gik ogsaa andre Tanker igjennem den; der var saameget, den
havde seet, saameget, den havde lyst til, maaskee ligesaa meget
som "de sex og tredive Mænd," men det sagde den ikke, for det
var en skikkelig gammel Løgte, den vilde Ingen fornærme, allermindst
sin Øvrighed. Den huskede saa meget, og imellem blussede Flammen
op inde i den, det var som havde den en Følelse af : "ja, man
husker ogsaa mig! der var nu den smukke unge Mand, - ja, det
er mange Aar siden! han kom med et Brev, det var paa rosenrødt
Papiir, saa fiint, saa fiint og med Guld-Kant, det var saa nydeligt
skrevet, det var en Damehaand; han læste det to Gange og han
kyssede det og han saae op til mig med sine to Øine, de sagde
"jeg er det lykkeligste Menneske!" - Ja kun han og jeg vidste
hvad der stod i det første Brev fra Kjæresten. - Jeg husker
ogsaa to andre Øine, det er underligt hvor man kan springe med
Tankerne! her i Gaden var en prægtig Begravelse, den unge smukke
Frue laa i Ligkisten paa den Fløiels-Ligvogn, der vare saa mange
Blomster og Krandse, der lyste saa mange Fakler, at jeg blev
reent borte ved det; hele Fortouget var fuldt med Mennesker,
de fulgte alle med Ligtoget, men da Faklerne var af Syne og
jeg saae mig omkring, stod her endnu En ved Pælen og græd, jeg
glemmer aldrig de to Sorgens Øine, der saae ind i mig!" -Saadan
gik der mange Tanker gjennem den gamle Gadeløgte, som iaften
lyste for sidste Gang. Skildvagten, som løses af, veed dog sin
Efterfølger, og kan sige ham et Par Ord, men Løgten vidste ikke
sin og den kunde dog givet ham et og andet Vink, om Regn og
Rusk, om hvorvidt Maaneskinnet gik paa Fortouget og fra hvad
Kant Vinden blæste. |
| Down in the gutter there
were three who were ready to take over the job of lighting up
the street as soon as it became vacant; and thinking that the
lamp could appoint his own successor, they presented them selves
to him. The first was a rotten herring head, which can shine
in the dark, as you know. It pointed out that his appointment
would mean a great saving in oil. The second was an old piece
of dry rotten wood. It can also glow and that a lot brighter
than an old codfish, as it said itself. Besides, it was the
last piece of a tree that had been the pride of a whole forest.
The third was a glowworm. The old street lamp could not imagine
where it could have come from, but there it was shining like
the others. The herring head and the piece of old, dry, rotten
wood claimed that the worm did not glow all the time but only
when it had fits, which ought to disqualify it. |
Paa Rendesteensbrættet
stode tre, som havde fremstillet sig for Løgten, idet de troede
at det var den, som gav Embedet bort; den ene af disse var et
Sildehoved, for det lyser i Mørke, og det meente at det kunde
jo være en sand Tranbesparelse, om det kom paa Løgtepælen. Den
anden var et Stykke Trøske, der ogsaa skinner, og altid meer
end en Klipfisk, det sagde den selv, desuden var den det sidste
Stykke af et Træ, som engang havde været en Pragt for Skoven.
Den tredie var en Sankt Hans Orm; hvor den var kommet fra, begreb
Løgten ikke, men Ormen var der og lyste gjorde den ogsaa, men
Trøsken og Sildehovedet gave Eed paa, at det var kun til visse
Tider, den lyste, og at den derfor aldrig kunde tages i Betragtning.
|
| The old lamp tried to
explain to them that none of them had sufficient light to become
a street lamp. But none of the three would believe that; and
when they were told that the lamp could not, in any case, appoint
his own successor, they all declared that this was good news,
for--as they all agreed--the old lamp was too senile to make
such an important decision. |
Den gamle Løgte sagde
at Ingen af dem lyste nok til at være Gadeløgte, men det troede
nu ingen af dem, og da de hørte at Løgten selv ikke gav Embedet
bort, sagde de, at det var meget glædeligt, thi den var da ogsaa
altfor affældig til at den kunde vælge. |
| Just then the wind came
around the corner and whistled through the cowl of the lamp.
"What's this I hear about your leaving us tomorrow? Will this
be the last evening that I shall find you here? Well, let me
give you a farewell present, since we must part. I shall blow
your brain clean of all cobwebs, so that you will not only be
able to remember everything you have ever heard or seen, but
you will be able to see clearly anything that is told or read
aloud in your presence, as well." |
I det samme kom Vinden
fra Gadehjørnet, den susede gjennem Røghætten paa den gamle
Løgte, og sagde til den: "Hvad er det for noget, jeg hører,
vil Du bort imorgen? Er det den sidste Aften jeg skal træffe
Dig her? Ja saa skal Du have en Present! nu lufter jeg op i
din Hjernekasse, saa at Du klart og tydeligt ikke alene skal
kunne huske hvad Du har hørt og seet, men naar der fortælles
eller læses Noget i din Nærværelse, skal Du være saa klarhovedet,
at Du ogsaa seer det!" |
| "What a marvelous gift!"
said the old lamp. "If only I am not melted down." |
"Ja det er grumme meget!"
sagde den gamle Gadeløgte, "mange Tak! bliver jeg bare ikke
støbt om!" |
| "It hasn't happened
yet," replied the wind. "And now I'll blow on your memory. If
you can get a few more presents like mine, your retirement and
old age will be a pleasure." |
"Det skeer ikke endnu!"
sagde Vinden, "og nu blæser jeg din Hukommelse op; kan Du faae
flere Presenter som den, saa kan Du have en ganske fornøielig
Alderdom!" |
| "But what if I am melted
down?" sighed the lamp. "Can you ensure my memory then too?"
|
"Bliver jeg kun ikke
støbt om!" sagde Løgten, "eller kan Du da ogsaa sikkre mig Hukommelsen?"
|
| "Be reasonable, old
lamp," said the wind, and blew with all its might. Just then
the moon came out from behind a cloud. "What will you give the
old lamp?" asked the wind. |
"Gamle Løgte, vær fornuftig!"
sagde Vinden, og saa blæste den. - I det samme kom Maanen frem.
"Hvad giver De?" spurgte Vinden. |
| "Me? I will give him
nothing," said the moon. "I am on the decline; besides, the
lamp has never shone for me, though I have shone for him." And
the moon hid behind the clouds because it hated anyone who made
demands on it. A drop of water fell upon the cowl. It announced
that it had been sent by the gray clouds above and that it brought
a valuable gift. "Now that I am inside of you, you can rust
into dust in one night--any night that you choose, even tonight."
The lamp thought that a very poor present and the wind agreed
with him. "Hasn't anyone anything better to offer . . . anything
better to offer?" screeched the wind as loudly as it could.
A shooting star fell from the sky, making an arch of fire. |
"Jeg giver ingen Ting!"
sagde den, "jeg er jo i Aftagende, og Løgterne have aldrig lyst
for mig, men jeg har lyst for Løgterne." Og saa gik Maanen bag
ved Skyerne igjen, for den vilde ikke plages. Da faldt lige
paa Røghætten en Vanddraabe, den var som et Tagdryp, men Draaben
sagde, den kom fra de graae Skyer og var ogsaa en Present, og
maaskee den allerbedste. Jeg trænger ind i Dig, saa at Du faaer
den Evne, at Du i een Nat, naar Du ønsker Dig det, kan gaae
over i Rust, saa Du falder heelt sammen og bliver til et Støv.
Men det syntes Løgten var en daarlig Present og Vinden syntes
det samme; "Er der ingen bedre, er der ingen bedre?" blæste
den saa høit den kunde; da faldt et skinnende Stjerneskud, det
lyste i en lang Stribe. |
|
"What was that?" shouted the herring head. "I think a star
fell right down into the old lamp! Well, if the office is
being sought by those of such high rank, the rest of us might
as well go home." And that was what all three of them did.
The old lamp shone more brightly than it ever had before.
"That was a lovely gift!" exclaimed the lamp. "The brilliant
stars above, whom I have always admired and who shine so much
more clearly than I have ever done--even though I have striven,
throughout my whole life, to do just that--have sent down
to me--poor, dim street lamp that I am--a most wonderful gift!
They have given me the power to make those whom I love see
clearly anything that I can remember or imagine. What a marvelous
present! For that happiness that cannot be shared with others
is only half as valuable as the one that can."
|
"Hvad var det?" raabte
Sildehovedet, "faldt der ikke en Stjerne lige ned? jeg troer
den gik i Løgten! - Naa, søges Embe det ogsaa af saa Høitstaaende,
saa kunne vi gaae at lægge os!" og det gjorde det, og de Andre
med; men den gamle Løgte lyste med eet saa forunderligt stærkt:
"Det var en deilig Present!" sagde den. "De klare Stjerner,
som jeg altid har fornøiet mig saa meget over, og som skinne
saa deilige, som jeg egentlig aldrig har kunnet skinne, skjøndt
det var min hele Stræben og Tragten, de have lagt Mærke til
mig fattige gamle Løgte og sendt En ned med en Present til mig,
der bestaaer i den Evne, at Alt hvad jeg selv husker og seer
rigtig tydeligt, skal ogsaa kunne sees af dem, jeg holder af!
og det er først den sande Fornøielse, for naar man ikke kan
dele den med Andre, saa er den kun en halv Glæde!" |
| "A very respectable
and decent sentiment, old lamp," said the wind. "I am afraid,
though, that they forgot to tell you that you need to have a
lighted wax candle inside you in order for anything to happen.
Without the burning candle, nobody will ever see anything. The
stars probably didn't think about telling you because they think
that anything that shines down here has at least one wax candle
inside it. But now I am tired. I think I'll rest." And the wind
was gone. |
"Det er meget agtværdigt
tænkt!" sagde Vinden, "men Du veed nok ikke at der hører Voxlys
til. Uden at der bliver tændt et Voxlys inden i Dig, er der
ingen af de Andre, der kunne see noget ved Dig. Det har Stjernerne
ikke betænkt, de troe nu at Alt hvad der skinner, har i det
mindste et Voxlys i sig. Men nu er jeg træt"! sagde Vinden,
"nu vil jeg lægge mig!" og saa lagde den sig. |
| The next day . . . Oh,
we might as well skip the next day and jump to the next evening,
when we find the lamp lying in an easy chair. But where? In
the home of the old night watchman. He had petitioned the six
and thirty men of the town council to reward his long and faithful
service by giving him the old street lamp. Although they laughed,
it had been good-naturedly, and the old man had been allowed
to take the lamp home with him. Now the lamp lay in the easy
chair next to the stove and looked twice as big as it had when
it hung from the lamppost. The old couple, who were having supper,
looked fondly toward it. They would have given the lamp a seat
at the table had there been a point to it. The room where they
lived was in a cellar, two feet under the ground, which had
to be entered through a stone-paved corridor. Around the door
there was weather stripping, and the room was warm. It was also
clean, neat, and cozy. Curtains concealed the bed and covered
the two tiny windows. On the window ledges stood two strange-looking
flowerpots which their neighbor, who was a sailor, had brought
home from the Indies--whether it was the East or the West Indies,
the old people didn't know. They were two ceramic elephants
whose backs had holes in them that could be filled with earth.
In one there grew leeks, and that was the old couple's vegetable
garden. In the other a geranium bloomed, and that was their
flower garden. On the wall hung a large colored print of The
Congress of Vienna. In this picture, all the kings and emperors
of Europe were portrayed, and you could see them all in one
glance. In the corner an old grandfather clock ticked away.
It was always fast but, as the old man said, that was better
than if it had been slow. While the old couple were eating dinner,
the lamp lay in the easy chair--as we have already been told--near
the old stove. The lamp felt a bit as if his world had been
turned upside down. But as soon as the old man began reminiscing,
talking about all the things that he and the lamp had experienced
together--in rain and shine, during the clear summer nights
and the long cold winter ones--the lamp realized how pleasant
it was to be sitting by a warm stove in the cellar. The lamp
remembered everything as vividly as if it had just happened.
The wind had really done a good job of refreshing its memory. |
Næste Dag - - ja næste
Dag kunne vi springe over; næste Aften saa laa Løgten i Lænestol,
og hvor -? Hos den gamle Vægter. Han havde af "de sex og tredive
Mænd" udbedet sig for sin lange tro Tjeneste, at maatte beholde
den gamle Løgte; de loe af ham da han bad og saa gav de ham
den, og nu laa Løgten i Lænestol, tæt ved den varme Kakkelovn,
og det var ordentligt ligesom den var blevet større derved,
den fyldte næsten hele Stolen. Og de gamle Folk sad alt ved
Aftensmaden og kastede milde Øine hen til den gamle Løgte, som
de gjerne havde givet Plads ved Bordet med. Det var jo rigtignok
i en Kjælder de boede, to Alen nede i Jorden; man maatte gjennem
en brolagt Forstue for at komme ind i Stuen, men luunt var her,
for der var Klædeslister for Døren; reent og net saae her ud;
Gardiner om Sengestedet, og over de smaa Vinduer, hvor der oppe
paa Karmen stode to underlige Urtepotter; Matros Christian havde
bragt dem hjem fra Ostindien eller Vestindien, det var af Leertøi
to Elephanter, hvis Ryg manglede, men i dennes Sted blomstrede
der ud af Jorden, som var lagt deri, i den ene den deiligste
Purløg, det var de gamle Folks Kjøkkenhave, og i den anden en
stor blomstrende Geranium, det var deres Blomster have. Paa
Væggen hang et stort kouleurt Billed, med "Kongressen i Wien,"
der havde de alle Konger og Keisere paa engang! Et bornholmsk
Uhr med tunge Blylodder gik "tik! tak!" og altid for gesvindt,
men det var bedre end at det skulde gaae for langsomt, sagde
de gamle Folk. De spiste deres Aftensmad, og den gamle Gadeløgte
laa som sagt i Lænestolen tæt ved den varme Kakkelovn. Det var
for Løgten, som om der var vendt op og ned paa hele Verden.
- Men da den gamle Vægter saae paa den og talte om hvad de to
havde oplevet med hinanden, i Regn og i Rusk, i de klare, korte
Sommernætter og naar Sneen fygede saa det var godt at komme
i Kjælderskuret, da var Alt igjen i Orden for den gamle Løgte,
den saae det, som om det var endnu, jo, Vinden havde rigtignok
godt lyst op inde i den. |
| The old people were
very hard-working; they never wasted a moment. Sunday afternoon,
the old watchman would take down a book and read aloud. He preferred
travel books, especially ones about Africa. He liked to read
about the great tropical forests where the elephants roamed.
His wife would glance up at the window ledges where the two
clay elephants were and say, "I can almost see it all." How
much the old street lamp wished he had a lighted candle inside
him! Then the old people would be able to see it all just as
he envisioned it. He saw the tall trees growing so close together
that their branches intertwined; the naked natives riding on
horses; and herds of elephants tramping through the underbrush,
crushing reeds and breaking saplings with their great broad
feet. |
De vare saa flittige
og saa flinke, de gamle Folk, ingen Time blev reent døset hen;
Søndag Eftermiddag kom der en eller anden Bog frem, helst en
Reisebeskrivelse, og den gamle Mand læste høit om Afrika, om
de store Skove og Elephanterne, som der gik vilde omkring, og
den gamle Kone hørte saadan efter og skottede saa hen til Leer-Elephanterne
der vare Urtepotter!- "Jeg kan næsten tænke mig det!" sagde
hun. Og Løgten ønskede saa inderligt at der var et Voxlys at
tænde og sætte inden i den, saa skulde hun grangivelig see Alt,
saaledes som Løgten saae det, de høie Træer, de tætte Grene
slyngede i hverandre, de nøgne sorte Mennesker til Hest og hele
Skarer af Elephanter, som med deres brede Fødder knuste Rør
og Buske. |
| "What is the good of
my gift if they have no wax candles?" sighed the street lamp.
"They cannot afford them; they are too poor to own anything
but tallow candles or oil." |
"Hvad kan alle mine
Evner hjelpe, naar der ingen Voxlys er!" sukkede Løgten, "de
har kun Tran og Tællelys, og det er ikke nok!" |
| But one day a whole
handful of wax candle stumps arrived in the cellar. The old
couple used the larger ones for light, but it never occurred
to them to put one in the old street lamp. With the smaller
pieces of candle the woman waxed her thread for sewing. |
En Dag kom der et heelt
Bundt Voxlysstumper i Kjælderen, de største Stykker bleve brændte
og de mindre brugte den gamle Kone til at voxe sin Traad med
naar hun syede; Voxlys var der, men de faldt ikke paa at sætte
et lille Stykke i Løgten. |
| "Here I sit, possessing
a rare gift," complained the lamp. "I have a whole world within
me, and I cannot share it with the old couple. They don't know
that I could decorate these whitewashed walls with the most
splendid tapestries. They could see the richest forest. . .
. They could see anything they desired; but alas! they do not
know it." |
"Her staaer jeg med
mine sjældne Evner!" sagde Løgten, "jeg har Alt indeni mig,
men jeg kan ikke dele med Dem! De veed ikke, at jeg kan forvandle
de hvide Vægge til de deiligste Tapeter, til rige Skove, til
Alt hvad De ville ønske sig! - De veed det ikke!" |
| The lamp had been polished
and cleaned and now stood in a comer where all the visitors
could see it. Most of them thought it was a piece of old rubbish,
but the night watchman and his wife truly loved the lamp. |
Løgten stod iøvrigt
skuret og net i en Krog hvor den altid faldt i Øinene; Folk
sagde rigtig nok at den var et Skrumpel, men det brød de Gamle
sig ikke om, de holdt af Løgten. |
| It was the night watchman's
birthday. The old woman stood before the lamp and said with
a smile, "I think that you ought to be illuminated in his honor."
Hopefully, the lamp thought, "A light has dawned on them. Now
they will give me a wax candle." The old woman filled the lamp
once more with oil and he burned all evening. And now he felt
certain that the gift the stars had given him--the best present
he had ever received--would remain a useless, hidden treasure
during the rest of his life. That night he dreamed--and anyone
who possesses a talent as great as the lamp's really can dream--that
the old couple had died and that he had been sent to the foundry
to be melted down. He was just as frightened as he had been
on the day that the six and thirty men had inspected him. But
even though he had the ability to rust and disappear into dust,
he didn't make use of it. When he had been melted down, the
iron was used to make the most beautiful candlestick, which
was cast in the shape of an angel holding a bouquet of flowers.
In the center, among the flowers, there was a hole for a wax
candle. The candlestick was placed on a green writing desk that
stood in a very cozy room, which was filled with books and had
many paintings hanging on the walls. It was the room of a poet.
All that the poet thought, imagined, and wrote down seemed to
exist within the room. The dark solemn woods, the sunlit meadows
where the stork strode, even the deck of a ship sailing on the
billowy sea. |
En Dag, det var den
gamle Vægters Geburtsdag, kom den gamle Kone hen til Løgten,
smilede saa smaat og sagde: "Jeg vil illuminere for ham!" og
Løgten knagede i Blikhætten, thi den tænkte: "nu gaaer Lyset
op for dem!" men der kom Tran og ingen Voxlys, den brændte hele
Aftenen, men vidste nu at den Gave, Stjernerne havde givet den,
den bedste Gave af Alle, blev en død Skat for dette Liv. Da
drømte den, - og naar man har slige Evner, kan man nok drømme,
- at de gamle Folk vare døde, og at den selv var kommen til
en Jernstøber og skulde smeltes om, den var ligesaa angest som
da den skulde paa Raadstuen og synes af de "sex og tredive Mænd,"
men skjøndt den havde Evnen at kunne falde sammen i Rust og
Støv, naar den ønskede sig det, saa gjorde den det dog ikke,
og saa kom den i Smeltovnen, og blev til den deiligste Jernlysestage,
hvori Nogen vilde sætte et Voxlys; den havde Form af en Engel,
der bar en Bouquet og midt i Bouquetten blev Voxlyset sat og
Stagen fik Plads paa et grønt Skrivebord, og Værelset var saa
hyggeligt, der stode mange Bøger, der hang deilige Billeder,
det var hos en Digter, og Alt hvad han tænkte og skrev, det
rullede op rundt omkring, Stuen blev til dybe mørke Skove, til
solbelyste Enge, hvor Storken gik og spankede, og til Skibsdækket
høit paa det svulmende Hav! |
| "What a gift I have!"
said the old lamp. "I could almost wish to be melted down. No!
Not as long as the old couple are alive. They love me for myself.
I am like a child to them; they have given me oil and polished
me. They honor me as much as they do The Congress of Vienna
and that picture is highborn." |
"Hvilke Evner jeg har!"
sagde den gamle Løgte idet den vaagnede. "Næsten kunde jeg længes
efter at smeltes om! dog nei, det maa ikke skee saalænge de
gamle Folk leve! De holde af mig for min Persons Skyld! Jeg
er dem jo, som i Barns Sted og de have skuret mig og de have
givet mig Tran! og jeg har det ligesaa godt, som "Kongressen",
der er saadant noget fornemt noget!" |
| From then on, the old
street lamp seemed to have acquired within him the peace that
he deserved; he was, after all, a very respectable old street
lamp. |
Og fra den Tid havde
den mere indvortes Ro, og det fortjente den skikkelige gamle
Gadeløgte. |
|