Genom ljumma gator far
|
man i oppna bilar.
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Genom sommarnatten bla
|
kor och hastar vilar.
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Pa en hojd blir luften sval,
|
varmen kommer i en dal
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och i stugan vantar frugan
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med en brasa varm och skon.
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Ungarna kan inte sova,
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fast de last sin aftonbon.
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|
- Pappa kommer, vi ar vakna.
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Kanske har han na’t fran sta’n!
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Det ar varmt sa vi ar nakna.
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Solen brande hela da’n.
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Gruset knastrar ut pa plan.
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- Jo, minsann, nu kommer han!
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Pappa kommer med de myggor
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som vill in i varat hus.
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Snart sa somnar tre sma ungar
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under tak i manens ljus.
|
|
Manen tiger over berg,
|
over sagoskogar.
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Strimmor strila innanfor
|
varma junilogar.
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Fladdermoss som ingen ser
|
uti natten sig beger.
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Och nar gryningen ska komma
|
borjar faglarna sin sang.
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Solen vaknar och vill vacka
|
blommorna pa varbalkong.
|
|
Forsta dagen nar du vaknar
|
i ditt sommarparadis
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ser du genom tyllgardinen
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appelblom i morgonbris.
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Hastar gnagga utanfor.
|
Hummelbrum och surr du hor
|
fran en ivrig, nyfodd slanda
|
som vill ut i sol och ljus,
|
tornar ofta mot en ruta
|
i ditt eget sommarhus.
|
|
[English translation]
|
|
Through warm[not hot] streets
|
you travel in open cars.
|
Throught the blue summernight
|
cows and horses rest.
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On a hill the air becomes cool
|
the warmth comes in a valley
|
and in the cottage waits the wife
|
with a fire warm and nice.
|
The kids can’t sleep
|
even though they said there evening prayers.
|
|
Daddy is coming, we are awake.
|
maybe he has brought something from town!
|
It is hot so we are naked.
|
The sun was burning all day.
|
The gravel is crunching in the yard.
|
-Yes, indeed, now he’s coming!
|
Daddy is coming with the mosquitos
|
that want to come in to our house.
|
Soon three little kids falls asleep
|
under roof in the moon’s light.
|
|
The moon keeps silent over mountains,
|
over fairytale forests.
|
Streaks filters inside
|
warm June barns.
|
Bats that no one sees
|
out in the night goes.
|
And when the dawn shall come
|
begins the birds their song.
|
The sun wakes and want to wake
|
the flowers on our balcony.
|
|
The first day you wakes
|
in your summer paradise
|
you will see through the tulle curtain
|
apple blossom in morning breeze.
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Horses are whining outside.
|
Buzzing from bumblebees you hear
|
and from a eager, newborn dragon fly
|
who wants out to sun and light
|
hits often a window pain
|
in your own summerhouse.
|
|
-----------------
|
I Ditt Sommarhus
|
| Alexander Rybak |
