Niels W. Gade

In the east, the sun rises; it spreads yellow on the clouds.
(It) goes over the sea and the mountain top,
goes over the countryside and the city.
It comes from the beautiful coast, where Paradise lay.
It bring light and life; It brings life and delight to great and small,
to great and small.
And with God’s Sun there goes out from the east a Heavenly ray on the earth;
A glimpse from Paradise Coast, where the Apple of Life grows.

My Beautiful Home
A. P. Berggren

My beautiful home, where the blue wave has hummed the tempo for my cradle;
Mermaids, that loom up out of the Deep, Spring-fresh crown of small islands,
Where it is so cozy to build nests, Where it is so bare of flowers to walk on
As on your motherly soil.

And the mountain’s sons are really a tiny bit closer to heaven,
But the eye sees the teeming stars from (the) plains as readily as from (the) mountains.
Our mountains are heaven-clouded, and our heights are only midgets.
But each and every one has fought in secret (to save).

Midsommer Dance
Maurice Sommerfelt

(There is an English paraphrase of this song.  A more literal translation is provided here by Donald Berg.)

Chorus:
I den lange, klare, skjonne sommernatt,
During the long, clear, beautiful summer night
mens skumringen sig senker over skog og kratt,
while the twilight settles over woods and bushes,
vil vi danse under stjernehimlens glans,
we will dance beneath (the) brilliance of the starry sky
mens spillemannen spiller opp en lystig dans.
while the fiddler plays a lively dance.
Chorus:

Rundt jeg svinger mig med min ven;
Round I swing with my friend;
lett vi svever over grønsvaeret hen,
lightly we float away over the greensward/turf;
om vi traller en munter sang
when we sing a cheerful song
ek koet svarer i fra skog og vang.
the echo replies from the woods and meadow.
Chorus:

Over traer fjernt og naer månen drysser
Over trees distant and near,
ned sitt bleke sølverskjaer.
the moon sheds it pale silver gleam.
Ved Sankt Hans uten stans
on St. Han’s (Day) without stopping,
du og jeg vil tra vår sommerdans.
you and I will step (out) our summer dance.
Chorus:

Vi med dans påvang og med spillog sang
With dancing on the meadow and with playing and singing
vil feire sommernattten lang.
we will celebrate the long summer night.

S. Anker-Gol

Dearest Savior, follow me,
With Your Light eternally,
When the night falls, O Lord, give light,
Light, light at eventide.

When my youthful strength is gone,
When my battle now is won.
Then my prayer is: O Lord give: light,
Light, light at eventide.

When I stand before the throne,
There in everlasting Spring,
Bursts forth then my song of praise: light,
Light, light in Paradise. AMEN

(Translated by Emil Martinson)

Little Stina
C. P. Wahlin

Stina, here you have me. Come, we shall dance a polka.
I still love you! Let us not (stand and) be tardy.
Tra-la-lal-la-lalla
Alas, may I (so enjoyably) become yours?
Tra-la-lal-la-lalla

Yes, I feel you are mine. Let all stop (their running),
We still dance round about; Skip, (just) skip, love’s skip.
Don’t worry yourself about anything.

Little Stina, feel my torment! Little Pelle, we are happy.
Come and see, Who shall advise (him) We are both happy.

Edvard Grieg

Olaf Trygvason went forth across the North Sea
U p toward his new kingdom which did not await him.
As he catches the first sight of land
“What is this wall rising out of the sea?”

And there was Olaf Trygvason
The land appeared quite closed. All of his kingly dreams
Seemed dashed against the cliff
Until a poet spied white domes and spires in the sky.

And Olaf Trygvason thought
He suddenly saw graying old temple walls with white snow arches.
In his youthful faith, he longed sorely to stand inside.

The land opened; spring was alive.
With the rush of waterfalls, storms, and the ocean’s roar around them.
Strange was the hum of the forest
Organ and bells could be heard.
The king looked around; the king was moved.

Here is the foundation,
The temple arch defies hell.
The spirit trembles, the heart is full.
Here only the greatest is acclaimed!
Would that my faith were as strong as the foundation
Rising to nature’s greatest height
Filled by Him who unites.

We all join in Olaf’s prayer. Now as then and always
The spirit trembles, the heart is full.
Here only the greatest is acclaimed!
Would that my faith were as strong as the foundation
Rising pure as the glacier’s dome.
The spirit rising to nature’s greatest height,
Filled by Him who unites. Filled by Him!

Norwegian Folktune

I laid me down to rest, and the hour it was late,
I nothing knew of pain or sorrow;
Then word to me came from my sweet-heart so dear,
To hasten to her ere the morrow —
I have no one ever lov’d so dearly.

(Translation taken from “The Sons of Norway Song Book”)

Sture Odd Woldoen & Alf Wold

Out there stands a fiery-red flame wheel,
Flames on the ocean toward land.
It teems with birds from their hiding places in the cliffs,
And beneath, the ocean keeps moving alongside the shore.
It sighs in their wings; now they sink slowly;
Behold, the birds on the cliff like snow.
Midnight Sun, Midnight Sun. The bird-mountain sleeps,
A vision. Midnight Sun.

Here I will bow my knee before the Lord,
And thank Him for eternal light.
And if I were like a bird, I would fly away from the place,
Out over the intensely golden ocean
Toward the reddening sun, which ascends again from it,
In the space filled by God’s peace.
Midnight Sun. Midnight Sun.

(Translation by Donald Berg)

In God’s Outdoors
F. A. Reissiger

Here, yes here (it) is good to be; Here we (can) take it easy,
And sing to the Creator’s glory; Glorified, praised shall He be;
A mighty song our ability, our ability shall bear,
A mighty song our ability, our ability shall bear

Up to Heaven’s home, to Heaven’s home, to Heaven’s home.
Look! The rich handiwork of the Creator around us all
Bears witness that God is mighty, His power we softly beseech.

Our song with the forest’s mild rustling, with the bird’s song and the waterfall’s roar
We join in mighty chorus, And sing loudly; Our God is great.

Hey! You darting sea-gull, Oh hey! Let me accompany you.
Carry me on white wings over your sea-blue way.
Carry me out there where (the) floor is chest-wide blue waves
(and the) ceiling is the high sky, the arch there above.
Carry me out there where the sea’s high-minded,
proud song goes through the emptiness of the cathedral’s dome like (the) sound of a single tone.
There I will ride the billows (and) sail on the shiny sea, splashed by the very salty sea spray (and) die out
there alone. Oh hey, you darting sea-gull, oh hey, oh hey!
Let me accompany you. Carry me on white wings over your sea-blue way.
Carry me out there on the sea! In ocean spray!

Oscar Borg

God Bless our native land,
Each vale and Mountain grand.
Each fell and fjord, each fell and fjord,
He let it ever stand,
Protect it with His Hand,
Protect each maid and man,
Forevermore, forevermore.

It is our dearest lot,
It is our dearest thought,
Our trust and thrift.
Great men they were and brave,
Who unto us it gave
A home for us to have,
A freedom gift.

(English by Torgeir Edland)

Ivar Aasen

Old Norway is our own ancestral land.
There are seas that totally surround the shoreline
There are bays, peninsulas, islands, thousands of fjords,
Mountains, where the snow rarely melts, and
Valleys, where the enormous waterfalls fall.

Hard are the long winters, yet green our spruce forests stand.
Where the foliage on the hills shoots forth,
Beautiful colors reach our neighborhood.
Great days and short nights pass gently around the bright earth,
Coast and fjord, and mountain farms bask in sunlight from south to north.

The children of those who built the land are still on the foundations,
The farms stand on old locales built and repaired as the farmer desires.
Accustomed to hardship more than to playfulness,
The people’s song plays on land and sea.
May the people sit with dignity and enjoy safety and peace.
Old Norway is our own ancestral land.

(Translations from “Sangerfest Program”)

Old Norway
David Monrad Johnasen

Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our ancestral land.
There are seas which totally as one play around the long shoreline.
There are bays and peninsulas and islands, thousands of fjords and thousands of mountains,
snowy where the snow rarely melts, valleys where the enormous waterfalls fall.

Nasty indeed are the long winters, yet green our spruce forests stand,
and when the foliage on the hills shoots forth, beautiful colors reach our neighborhood.
Great days and short nights pass gently around the bright earth; coast and fjord and mountains
and mountain farms bask in sunlight from south and north.

The children of those who built the land are still on the foundations;
the farms stand on old locales built and repaired as the farmer desires.
Accustomed to difficulty more than to affectionateness, the sound-song plays on land and sea.
May they be granted (to) sing with dignity and to enjoy steadfastness on a foundation in safety and peace.

Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our very own ancestral land.
Old Norway, northernmost in neighborhoods, is our very own ancestral land.

Ole Olson

Unfold yourself, our old emblem, eternally young Singers Flag!
Make the weak wills strong, Whenever you are raised for our cause!
Train us strictly like the oak’s branch (to) endure with courageous chest.
Strengthen us, strengthen us, strengthen us,
that we may never lose Hope’s joyful songbird voice.

Lift high, then, our singers’ banner! Array around it a guard of youth!
Let it shine upon our path, always cheerful and undismayed.
To the far-off (its) red cloth shall bring a message like (the) fire of a beacon.
Bring a message, bring a message,
that the young generation will protect freedom, king, (and) fatherland
Unfold yourself, our old emblem. Unfold yourself.

Even Now only a Glimpse
Agathe Backer-Grøndahl

Even now only a glimpse from the sun, even now only a breeze from the sea,
Even now only a smile from my beloved, come, therefore, death.
Even now a glance from my friend,
Even now a squeeze of his hand, even now a sound of the familiar footstep!
Come, therefore, come thou better land! Even now an inward prayer to Christ
that He will guide me while I am wandering up toward that golden path.
Come, therefore, come! Eternity.

Denmark’s Garden
Oskar Gyldmark

1. Now hangs high above Denmark’s garden, like a bell hidden in the plain dawn,
the bell-like larks and blissfully chimes the early choir beneath a golden cloud.
With singing it blesses the hours of the day that they may proceed with singing anew.

4. But, you who hear on Denmark’s garden your burden of despondency with bowed back,
bathe yourself in the morning’s clear water when the marsh sprite has finished its brewing,
its beautiful clarity frees your forehead; with singing it blesses you well and safe.

arr. Edvard Grieg

(This might be described as a child’s fun song. Låt can mean “(noisy), fun, gaiety”.
Imagine a child at bedtime with dad providing sound effects to this song.)

Brumbraskön i Bumba, Brumbraskön i Bumba.
(Refers to a bear growling.)
Katten slaer uppå Trumma,
The cat is beating on the drum
o firö Mysa dei gå i Dans,
and four mice are dancing
so heilö Jore ho dundra.
so the whole earth trembles.

Katta, Katta, Katta.

Katta sat uppå Take,
The cat was sitting up on the roof,
Tala te sine Dötta,
talking to its daughters,
Kor sko me o Veten vera,
“If we should become wet,
me frjösö på vore Föta
we’ll freeze on our feet.”

Rejsö, rejsö, rejsö, rejsö.

Me sko rejsö te Danemark
“We shall travel to Denmark
o kjöpö Sko för ei heilö Mark,
and buy shoes for a while mark.”
Trine, trine, trine, trine Pepar o Ködn.
Step, step, step.
(The last line defies translation.
It may refer to “going to bed”)

(Translation by Donald Berg)

C.H. Rinck

Sunset warm and glowing smiles and sounds all cease
Nature is bestowing silent, holy peace.

But the brooklet’s billow murmur on and on;
There ‘mong break and willow, day is never done.

Evening never bringeth, less’ning in its pace.
Curfew never ringeth ending in its race.

So my heart is beating in unending love
Until, death defeating, I find peace above.

(English by Siver Serumgard)

(an alternate translation)

Evening sun smiles on the earth below
And nature rest silent in holy peace.

Only the brook’s waves ripple gently
Through the field and woods forward it throws itself.

No evening brings standstill to its flow
No bells ring it to quiet and peace.

So my heart stops in its love,
Until I one day sleep in an eternal peace.

(Translation by Harold Svanoe)

Sigurd Skavlan
Music by Edvard Grieg

Let us raise the Welcome Song, Brothers, toward the joyous parade.
Let us display high on the banner the harp in its own tongue.
Light a foot, cheerful in mind, Traveling Singers, come in, come in!

Sing together, fellow singers, in a united richness of tones.
Before scattering in your return journey, we will blend soul to soul.
Therefore to our Music Fest, Fellow singers, a most hearty Welcome!

(Loose Translation by Don Berg)

Landsighting
Edvard Grieg

1. Oh, it was Olaf Trygvason, sailing o’er the North Sea grim,
Up to his youthful royal kingdom, never expecting him.
At first sight, halting motion: “What is this kind of wall a thwart the ocean?”

2. Oh, it was Olaf Trygvason, quiet forbidding was the land;
All of his youthful kingly longings seemed by the mountains banned.
Then came a skald* perceiving whitened towers and spires, the sky piercing.

3. Oh it was Olaf Trygvason, then it seemed that he should go
To grayed and ancient temple bastions, white with a crown of snow.
Sorely he then kept longing, with his youthful faith to stand where belonging.

4. Open the land was; spring was here rumbling from its waterfalls.
Storm clouds and sea din rolled around them. Rustling, the forest calls.
Organs, with bells enhancing, Olaf looked about
Himself entrancing. Himself entrancing.

5. (King Olaf’s prayer) Baritone solo
“Our foundation here is grounded, temple-pillars bar out Hades.
Spirit trembles, heart is swelling; just the greatest here is honored!
May my faith match my foundation, mount to Jokel’s elevation.
Be my soul at nature’s apex filled by Him who all created!”

6. Olaf’s prayer we all submit to, now and always all commit to,
“Spirit trembles, heart is swelling; just the greatest here is honored!
May my faith match my foundation, mount to Jokel’s elevation.
Be my soul, at nature’s apex, filled by Him who all created!
Filled by Him! Filled by Him!

*any ancient Scandinavian poet, specifically one of the Viking period.

Yes, We Love This Land
Rikard Nordraak
(The National Anthem of Norway)

Yes, we love this land as it wins renown,
weathered over the water with the thousand homes.
(We) love, (we) love it and think of our father and mother
and the saga-night that settles, (and we) dream of our soil.

Rest by This Spring
Carl Bellman

Rest by this spring! Our little breakfast prepare: red wine with burnet (salad?)
and a recently shot snipe.
Klink, what bottles, Ulla, in our overly full baskets, emptied, roll in the grass
and feel how well the steam evaporates!
Your midday wine we shall pour out of the pitcher with a cheerful expression.
Rest by this spring. Hear the sound of our French horn, cousin!
The sound of the French horn, cousin!