Alfred Paulsen

Norway, my Norway, securely asleep,
In winter’s bright halls now reposing.
Your dreams are so pleasant, your slumber so sweet,
When rivers and streamlets are closing,
And no one can rest so serenely in peace.
When songs birds are silent, And even the trees,
In wint’ry garments in wint’ry garments are dozing.

Norway, my Norway! Let springtime appear
With sunshine and warmth for the meadows;
But hear me, oh, hear me: when evening draws near
With coolness and lengthening shadows.
Oh Norway! Then teach me to wither and die,
And grant in your hallowed ground I may lie,
When summer and life are departing.

(Translation by O.T. Arneson)