The Tales of Hans Christian Andersen

The Snowman - Sneemanden.

1861

"It crackles and creaks inside of me. It is so cold that it is a pleasure" said the snowman. "When the wind bites you, then you know you're alive. Look how the burning one gapes and stares." By "the burning one" he meant the sun, which was just about to set. "But she can't make me blink; I'll stare right back at her." "Det skrupknager i mig, saa deiligt koldt er det!" sagde Sneemanden. "Vinden kan rigtignok bide Liv i Een! Og hvor den Gloende der, hun gloer!" det var Solen, han meente; den var lige ved at gaae ned. "Hun skal ikke faae mig til at blinke, jeg kan nok holde paa Brokkerne!"
The snowman had two triangular pieces of tile for eyes, and a children's rake for a mouth, which meant that he had teeth. Det var to store, trekantede Tagsteens Brokker, han havde til Øine; Munden var et Stykke af en gammel Rive, derfor havde han Tænder.
His birth had been greeted by the boys with shouts of joy, to the sound of sleigh bells and the cracking of whips. Han var født under Hurraraab af Drengene, hilset af Bjældeklang og Pidskesmæld fra Kanerne.
The sun set and the moon rose, full and round, beautiful in the blue evening sky. Solen gik ned, Fuldmaanen stod op, rund og stor, klar og deilig i den blaae Luft.
"There she is again, just in another place. She couldn't stay away." The snowman thought that the sun had returned. "I guess, that I have cooled her off. But now she's welcome to stay up there, for it is pleasant with a bit of light, so that I can see. If only I knew how to move and get about, then I would go down to the lake and slide on the ice as the boys do. But I don't know how to run." "Der har vi hende igjen fra en anden Kant!" sagde Sneemanden. Han troede, at det var Solen, der viste sig igjen. "Jeg har vænnet hende af med at gloe! nu kan hun hænge der og lyse op, at jeg kan see mig selv. Vidste jeg bare, hvorledes man bærer sig ad med at flytte sig! jeg vilde saa gjerne flytte mig! kunde jeg det, vilde jeg nu ned at glide paa Isen, som jeg saae Drengene gjøre det; men jeg forstaaer ikke at løbe!"
"Out! Out! Out!" barked the old watchdog, who was chained to his doghouse. He was hoarse and had been so ever since he had been refused entrance to the house. That was a long time ago now; but when the dog lived inside, it had lain next to the stove. "The sun will teach you to run. I saw what happened to last year's snowman and to the one the year before last. . . . Out! Out! Out! . . . They are all gone." "Væk! væk!" bjæffede den gamle Lænkehund; han var noget hæs, det havde han været, siden han var Stuehund og laae under Kakkelovnen. "Solen vil nok lære Dig at løbe! det saae jeg med din Formand ifjor og med hans Formand; væk! væk! og væk ere de Alle!"
"What do you mean by that, comrade?" asked the snowman. "How can that round one up there teach me to run?" By "that round one," he meant the moon. "She ran when I looked straight into her eyes. Now she is trying to sneak back from another direction." "Jeg forstaaer Dig ikke, kammerat!" sagde Sneemanden; "skal den deroppe lære mig at løbe?" Han meente Maanen; "ja hun løb jo rigtignok før, da jeg saae stift paa hende, nu lister hun fra en anden Kant!"
"You are ignorant," said the watchdog. "But you have only just been put together. The round one up there is called the moon. The other one is the sun and she will be back tomorrow. She will teach you how to run, right down to the lake. I've got a pain in my left hind leg and that means the weather is about to change." "Du veed Ingenting!" sagde Lænkehunden, "men Du er da ogsaa nylig klattet op! Den Du nu seer, kaldes Maanen, den der gik, var Solen, hun kommer igjen imorgen, hun lærer Dig nok at løbe ned i Voldgraven. Vi faae snart Forandring i Veiret, det kan jeg mærke paa mit venstre Bagbeen, det jager i det. Vi faae Veirskifte!"
"I don't understand him," thought the snowman, "but I have a feeling that he was saying something unpleasant. The hot one--the one that was here a moment ago and then went away, the one he called the sun--is no friend of mine. Not that she's done me any harm; it's just a feeling I have." "Jeg forstaaer ham ikke!" sagde Sneemanden, "men jeg har en Fornemmelse af, at det er noget Ubehageligt, han siger. Hun, der gloede og gik ned, som han kalder Solen, hun er heller ikke min Ven, det har jeg paa Følelsen!"
  "Væk! væk!" bjæffede Lænkehunden, gik tre Gange rundt om sig selv og lagde sig saa ind i sit Huus for at sove.
The weather did change. In the morning there was a heavy fog. During the day it lifted, the wind started to blow, and there was frost. The sun came out and what a beautiful sight it was! The hoarfrost made the forest appear like a coral reef; every tree and bush looked as if it were decked with white flowers. In the summer when they have leaves, you cannot see what intricate and lovely patterns the branches make. But now they looked like lace and were so brilliantly white that they seemed to radiate light. The weeping birch tree swayed in the wind as it did in summer. Oh, it was marvelous to see. As the sun rose higher in the sky its light grew sharper and its rays made everything appear as if it were covered with diamond dust. In the blanket of snow that lay upon the ground were large diamonds, blinking like a thousand small candles, whose light was whiter than snow. Der kom virkelig Forandring i Veiret. En Taage, saa tyk og klam, lagde sig i Morgenstunden hen over hele Egnen; i Dagningen luftede det; Vinden var saa isnende, Frosten tog ordenlig Tag, men hvor det var et Syn at see, da Solen stod op. Alle Træer og Buske stode med Riimfrost; det var som en heel Skov af hvide Koraller, det var som om alle Grene vare overdængede af straalehvide Blomster. De uendelig mange og fine Forgreninger, dem man om Sommeren ikke kan see for de mange Blade, kom nu frem hver evige een; det var en Knipling og saa skinnende hvid, som strømmede der en hvid Glands ud fra hver Green. Hængebirken bevægede sig i Vinden, der var Liv i den, som i Træerne ved Sommertid; det var en mageløs Deilighed! og da Solen saa skinnede, nei, hvor funklede det Hele, som om det var overpuddret med Diamantstøv og hen over Jordens Sneelag glimrede de store Diamanter, eller man kunde ogsaa troe, at der brændte utallige smaa bitte Lys, endnu hvidere end den hvide Snee.
"Isn't it unbelievably beautiful?" said a young girl who was taking a walk in the garden with a young man. "I think it's even lovelier now than it is in summer." And her eyes shone, as if the beauty of the garden were reflected in them. "Det er en mageløs Deilighed!" sagde en ung Pige, som med en ung Mand traadte ud i Haven og standsede just ved Sneemanden, hvor de saae paa de glimrende Træer. "Deiligere Syn har man ikke om Sommeren!" sagde hun, og hendes Øine straalede.
They stopped near the snowman to admire the forest. "And a handsome fellow like that you won't see in the summer either," remarked the young man, pointing to the snowman. "Og saadan en Karl, som ham der, har man nu slet ikke!" sagde den unge Mand og pegede paa Sneemanden. "Han er udmærket!"
The girl laughed and curtsied before the snowman, then she took the young man's hand in hers and the two of them danced across the snow, which crunched beneath their feet as if they were walking on grain. Den unge Pige lo, nikkede til Sneemanden og dandsede saa med sin Ven hen over Sneen, der knirkede under dem, som om de gik paa Stivelse.
"Who were they?" the snowman asked the dog. "You've been here on the farm longer than I have. Do you know them?" "Hvem var de To?" spurgte Sneemanden Lænkehunden; "Du er ældre paa Gaarden end jeg, kjender Du dem?"
"Certainly," answered the old dog. "She has patted me and he has given me bones. I would never bite either of them." "Det gjør jeg!" sagde Lænkehunden. "Hun har jo klappet mig, og han har givet mig et Kjødbeen; dem bider jeg ikke!"
"Why do they walk hand in hand? I have never seen boys walk like that." "Men hvad forestille de her?" spurgte Sneemanden.
"They are engaged," the old dog sniffed. "Soon they will be moving into the same doghouse and will share each other's bones." "Kjærrrrr-restefolk!" sagde Lænkehunden. "De skal flytte i Hundehuus og gnave Been sammen. Væk! væk!"
"Are they as important as you and I?" asked the snowman. "Har de To ligesaa meget at betyde som Du og jeg?" spurgte Sneemanden.
"They belong to the house and are our masters," replied the dog. "You certainly know precious little, even if you were only born yesterday. I wouldn't have believed such ignorance existed if I hadn't heard it with my own ears. But I have both age and knowledge, and from them you acquire wisdom. I know everyone on the farm; and I have known better times, when I didn't have to stand here, chained up and frozen to the bone. . . . Out! Out! Get out!" "De høre jo til Herskabet!" sagde Lænkehunden; "det er rigtignok saare Lidt man veed, naar man er født igaar! det mærker jeg paa Dig! Jeg har Alder og Kundskab, jeg kjender Alle her paa Gaarden! og jeg har kjendt en Tid, hvor jeg ikke stod her i Kulde og Lænke; væk! væk!"
"I love to freeze," said the snowman. "Tell me about the time when you were young, but stop rattling your chain like that, it makes me shudder inside." "Kulden er deilig!" sagde Sneemanden. "Fortæl, fortæl! men Du maa ikke rasle med Lænken, for saa knækker det i mig!"
"Out! Out!" barked the old dog. "I was a puppy once. 'See that lovely little fellow,' they used to say, and I slept on a velvet chair. I lay in the lap of the master of the house and had my paws wiped with embroidered handkerchiefs. They kissed me and called me a sweetheart, and their little doggy-woggy. When I grew too big to lie in a lap they gave me to the housekeeper. She had a room in the cellar. You can look right into her window from where you are standing. Down there I was the master. It wasn't as nicely furnished as upstairs, but it was much more comfortable. I had my own pillow to lie on, and the housekeeper gave me just as good food and more of it. Besides, upstairs there were children and they are a plague, always picking you up, squeezing you, and hugging you, and carrying you about as if you had no legs of your own to walk on. . . . Then there was the stove. In winter there is nothing as lovely as a stove. When it was really cold I used to crawl all the way under it. I still dream of being there, though it's a long time since I was there last. . . . Out! Out! Out!" "Væk! væk!" bjæffede Lænkehunden. "Hvalp har jeg været; lille og yndig, sagde de, da laae jeg i Fløielsstol derinde paa Gaarden, laae i Skjødet paa det øverste Herskab; blev kysset i Flaben og visket om Poterne med broderet Lommetørklæde; jeg hed "den Deiligste", "Nussenussebenet", men saa blev jeg dem for stor! saa gav de mig til Huusholdersken; jeg kom i Kjelder-Etagen! Du kan see ind i den, hvor Du staaer; Du kan see ned i Kamret, hvor jeg har været Herskab; for det var jeg hos Huusholdersken. Det var vel et ringere Sted end ovenpaa, men her var mere behageligt; jeg blev ikke krammet og slæbt om med af Børn, som ovenpaa. Jeg havde ligesaa god Føde, som før og meget mere! jeg havde min egen Pude, og saa var der en Kakkelovn, den er paa denne Tid det Deiligste i denne Verden! jeg krøb heelt ind under den, saa at jeg blev borte. 0, den Kakkelovn drømmer jeg endnu om; væk! væk!"
"Is a stove a thing of beauty?" asked the snowman. "Does it look like me?" "Seer en Kakkelovn saa deilig ud!" spurgte Sneemanden. "Ligner den mig?"
"You're as much alike as day and night. The stove's as black as coal; it has a long black neck with a brass collar around it. The fire's in the bottom. The stove lives on wood, which it eats so fast that it breathes fire out of its mouth. Ah! To lie near it or, better still, underneath it; until you have tried that you have no idea what comfort is. . . . You must be able to see it from where you are. That window, there, just look in." "Den er lige det Modsatte af Dig! kulsort er den! har en lang Hals med Messing-Tromle. Den æder Brænde, saa at Ilden staaer den ud af Munden. Man maa holde sig paa Siden af den, tæt op, ind under den, det er en uendelig Behagelighed! Du maa ind af Vinduet kunde see den der, hvor Du staaer!"
And the snowman did and he saw the stove: a black, polished metal figure with brass fixtures. The little door at the bottom, through which ashes could be removed, had a window in it; and the snowman could see the light from the fire. A strange feeling of sadness and joy came over him. A feeling he had never experienced before. A feeling that all human beings know, except those who are made of snow. Og Sneemanden saae, og virkelig saae han en sort blankpoleret Gjenstand med Messing-Tromle; Ilden lyste ud forneden. Sneemanden blev ganske underlig til Mode; han havde en Fornemmelse, han ikke selv kunde gjøre sig Rede for; der kom over ham Noget, han ikke kjendte, men som alle Mennesker kjende, naar de ikke ere Sneemænd.
"Why did you leave her?" The snowman somehow felt certain that the stove was of the female sex. "How could you bear to go away from such a lovely place?" "Og hvorfor forlod Du hende?" sagde Sneemanden. Han følte at det maatte være et Hunkjøns Væsen. "Hvor kunde Du forlade et saadant Sted?"
"I had to," answered the old watchdog. "They threw me out, put a chain around my neck, and here I am. And all I had done was to bite the youngest of the children from upstairs. I was pawing on a bone and he took it away. A bone for a bone, I thought, and bit him in the leg. But the master and the mistress put all the blame on me. And ever since then I have been chained. The dampness has spoiled my voice. Can't you hear how hoarse I am? . . . Out! Out! Get out! . . . And that is the end of my story." "Det var jeg nok nødt til!" sagde Lænkehunden, "De smed mig udenfor og satte mig her i Lænke. Jeg havde bidt den yngste Junker i Benet, for han stødte fra mig det Been, jeg gnavede paa; og Been for Been, tænker jeg! men det toge de ilde op, og fra den Tid har jeg staaet i Lænke, og har mistet min klare Røst, hør hvor hæs jeg er: væk! væk! det blev Enden paa det!"
The snowman, who had stopped listening to the watchdog, was staring with longing through the cellar window into the housekeeper's room, where the stove stood on its four black legs. "She is exactly the same height as I am," he thought. Sneemanden hørte ikke mere efter; han saae stadig ind i Huusholderskens Kjelder-Etage, ned i hendes Stue, hvor Kakkelovnen stod paa sine fire Jernbeen og viste sig i Størrelse som Sneemanden selv.
"It creaks so strangely inside of me," the snowman muttered. "Shall I never be able to go down into the cellar and be in the same room with her? Isn't it an innocent wish, and shouldn't innocent wishes be granted? It is my greatest, my most earnest, my only wish! And it would be a terrible injustice if it were never fulfilled! I shall get in, even if I have to break the window to do it." "Det knager saa underligt i mig!" sagde han. "Skal jeg aldrig komme derind? det er et uskyldigt Ønske, og vore uskyldige Ønsker maae dog vist blive opfyldte. Det er mit høieste Ønske, mit eneste Ønske og det vilde være næsten uretfærdig, om det ikke blev stillet tilfreds. Jeg maa derind, jeg maa helde mig op til hende, om jeg ogsaa skal knuse Vinduet!"
"You will never get down into the cellar," the old dog said. "And if you did manage it, then the stove would make sure that you were out in a minute. . . . Out! Out!" "Der kommer Du aldrig ind!" sagde Lænkehunden, "og kom Du til Kakkelovnen, saa var Du væk! væk!"
"I am almost out already!" cried the snowman. "I feel as if I were about to break in two." "Jeg er saa godt som væk!" sagde Sneemanden, "jeg brækker over, troer jeg!"
All day long the snowman gazed through the window. In the evening the housekeeper's room seemed even more inviting. The light from the stove was so soft. It was not like the moonlight or the sun light. "Only a stove can glow like that," he thought. Every so often, when the top door of the stove was opened to put more wood in, the bright flames would shoot out, and the blaze would reflect through the window and make the snowman blush from the neck up. Hele Dagen stod Sneemanden og saae ind af Vinduet; i Tusmørket blev Stuen endnu mere indbydende; fra Kakkelovnen lyste det saa mildt, som ikke Maanen lyser og heller ikke Solen, nei, som kun Kakkelovnen kan lyse, naar der er Noget i den. Gik de med Døren, saa slog Luen ud, det var den i Vane med; det blussede ordenligt rødt i Sneemandens hvide Ansigt, det lyste rødt lige op af hans Bryst.
"It's more than I can bear!" he exclaimed. "See how beautiful she is when she sticks out her tongue." "Jeg holder det ikke ud!" sagde han. "Hvor det klæder hende at række Tungen ud!"
The night was long, but not for the snowman, who was daydreaming happily. Besides, it was so cold that everything seemed to tingle. Natten var meget lang men ikke for Sneemanden, han stod i sine egne deilige Tanker og de frøs, saa de knagede.
In the morning the cellar window was frozen; the most beautiful white flowers decorated the glass, which the snowman did not appreciate because they hid the stove from his view. It was so cold that the windows couldn't thaw and the running nose on the water pump in the yard grew an icicle. It was just the kind of weather to put a snowman in the best of moods, but it didn't. Why, it was almost a duty to be content with weather like that; but he wasn't. He was miserable. He was suffering from "stove-yearning." I Morgenstunden vare Kjeldervinduerne frosne til, de bare de deiligste Iisblomster, nogen Sneemand kunde forlange, men de skjulte Kakkelovnen. Ruderne vilde ikke tøe op, han kunde ikke see hende. Det knagede, det knasede, det var just et Frostveir, der maatte fornøie en Sneemand, men han var ikke fornøiet; han kunde og burde have følt sig saa lykkelig, men han var ikke lykkelig, han havde Kakkelovns Længsel.
"That is a very serious disease, especially for a snowman to get." The old watchdog shook his head. "I have suffered from it myself, but I got over it. . . . Out! Out! Get out! . . . I have a feeling that the weather is going to change." "Det er en slem Syge for en Sneemand!" sagde Lænkehunden; "jeg har ogsaa lidt af den Syge, men jeg har overstaaet den! væk! væk! - Nu faae vi Veirskifte!"
And it did. Og der blev Veirskifte, det slog om i Tø.
It became warmer and the snowman became smaller. He didn't say a word, not even one of complaint, and that's a very telling sign. Tøveiret tog til, Sneemanden tog af. Han sagde ikke Noget, han klagede ikke, og det er det rigtige Tegn.
One morning he fell apart. His head rolled off and something that looked like the handle of a broom stuck up from where he had stood. It was what the boys had used to help hold the snowman together and make him stand upright. En Morgen styrtede han. Der stak Noget ligesom et Kosteskaft i Veiret, hvor han havde staaet, det havde Drengene reist ham om.
"Now I understand why he longed for the stove," said the old watchdog. 'That's the old poker he had inside him. No wonder. Well, now that's over. . . . Out! Out! Out!" "Nu kan jeg forstaae det med hans Længsel!" sagde Lænkehunden, "Sneemanden har havt en Kakkelovnsskraber i Livet! det er den, som har rørt sig i ham, nu er det overstaaet; væk! væk!"
And soon the winter was over, Og snart var ogsaa Vinteren overstaaet.
and the little girls sang: "Væk, væk!" bjæffede Lænkehunden; men Smaapigerne paa Gaarden sang:

"Come, anemones, so pure and white, Come, pussy willows, so soft and fight, Come, lark and cuckoo, and sing That in February we have spring."

"Skyd frem, Skovmærke! frisk og prud, Hæng, Piil! din uldne Vante ud, Kom, Kukker, Lærke! syng, vi har Alt Foraar sidst i Februar! Jeg synger med, Kukkuk! qvivit! Kom, kjære Sol, kom saadan tidt!"

And no one thought about the snowman. Saa tænker Ingen paa Sneemanden!

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