Arne; Early Tales and Sketches: Patriots EditionBjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
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Arne; Early Tales and Sketches: Patriots Edition
Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
Norway -- Fiction; Norwegian fiction -- Translations into English
"It was such a pleasant, sunny day,
In-doors I could no longer tarry:
I stepped in a boat, on my back I lay,
The tide did me onward carry;
The sun, though, scorched till my nose was burned;
There's limit to all, so to shore I turned.
"'What fine days these are for drying the hay!' said mother, as she
shook it with a rake.
"It was such a pleasant, sunny day,
In-doors I could not think of staying:
I climbed up a tree, and thought there I'd stay,
For there were cool breezes playing.
A grub to fall on my neck then there chanced;
I sprang down and screamed, and how madly I danced.
"'Well, if the cow does not thrive such a day as this, she never will,'
said mother, as she gazed up the slope.
"It was such a pleasant, sunny day,
In-doors I could no peace discover:
I made for the force that did loudly play,
For _there_ it must surely hover;
But there I drowned while the sun still shone.
If you made this song, it is surely not my own.[17]
"'It would take only about three such sunny days to get everything under
cover,' said mother; and off she started to make my bed."
* * * * *
Nevertheless, this companionship with his mother brought every day more
and more comfort to Arne. What she did not understand formed quite as
much of a tie between them as what she did understand. For the fact of
her not comprehending a thing made him think it over oftener, and she
grew only the dearer to him because he found her limits on every side.
Yes, she became infinitely dear to him.
As a child, Arne had not cared much for nursery stories. Now, as a grown
person, he longed for them, and they led to traditions and ancient
ballads. His mind was filled with a wonderful yearning; he walked much
alone, and many of the places round about, which formerly he had not
noticed, seemed strangely beautiful. In the days when he had gone with
those of his own age to the priest's to prepare for confirmation, he had
often played with them by a large lake below the parsonage, called Black
Water, because it was deep and black. He began to think of this lake
now, and one evening he wended his way thither.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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