fredag den 21. oktober 2016

Vejen hjem 1016 Oktobertanker -- On my Way home, October 2016

     Oktober er en efterårsmåned. Der er næsten mørkt om morgenen, når vi står op. Uglemor følger stadig Ugleungerne til bussen næsten hver morgen, men der bliver ikke så ofte taget billeder.

     Oktober er den perfekte måned for nostalgiske og dystre tanker.

- o 0 o -

October is Autumn. The days are getting shorter. It is not yet dark when we rise, but soon it will be. MotherOwl still walks with the Owlets to the bus stop most mornings, but fewer pictures are taken.

October is a month made for nostalgia and dark thoughts.



     Hvert år, når bladenen falder af træerne, kører "Løvfald" også kendt som "Kirsten og vejen fra Gurre" i Uglemors hoved når de mange brogede blade driver hen ad vejen.

Every October, when the leaves fall from the trees, and lie in the roads, MotherOwl hears a song in her head all the time, or rather mostly just one line from the poem.
... I vejens våde, blanke asfalt-å ...
... in the wet, glistening asphalt river ...



 Kirsten og vejen fra Gurre.     Kirsten and the road from Gurre*


Det løvfald som vi kom så altfor nær         The autumn that came close to us, too close.
bedrog os med de ting vi havde kær:          Has cheated us with what we loved most.
Den strenge hvide sol, en sløret regn         The white and glaring Sun, the mellow rain
Et gult forundringssmil i Nyrup* Hegn.     A yellow smile of wonder in the lane.

Hvor kom vi alt for nær på alle ting            We came too close to every earthly thing
Det løvfald lod os se en sjælden ring          The autumn let us see a eerie ring.
Der stod en hest med samme hvide hår      A horse's mane had hairs as white as snow,
som vore arme unger engang får.               Thus will our poor kids look when they are grown

Din lille, varme hånd sad fast i min,            Your hand in mine was nested, small and warm,
og der kom blæsten rendende med sin.       And with outstretched arms arrived the storm
I vejens våde, blanke asfalt-å                     The wet and shiny river of our street
drev mange flere blade, end vi så.              Had more leaves drifting than we'll ever meet.

Esbønderup*, Det hvide hospital              A white and sprawling ward lies in the grove,
En fjern og ukendt hanes søndagsgal          And far away a rooster starts to crow.
Dit blik fik gule marker med sig hjem          Your eyes have feasted on the yellow grain
Nu ejer du en længsel efter dem.                A longing for them always will remain.

Frank Jæger, 1948

* Gurre is now an insignificant village 42 kilometres north of Copenhagen. In the Middle ages some of the Dsnish kings lived there part time. Valdemar IV Atterdag ("mañana") is famous for saying: "Let God keep His Paradise, as long as I have my Gurre".
It seems this poem describes a journey from Elsinore, (where Frank Jæger was to live later in his life), over Nyrup, Gurre and Esbønderup to somewhere further on, and - mostly - it's metaphysical impact on the young poet.
Elsinore is also the town, where MotherOwl grew up and met Frank Jæger long ago. He died in 1977.

2 kommentarer:

  1. Uglemor,

    I love autumn with its cooler temperatures and beautiful colours, but hidden under the delight is an uneasy feeling. Winter is on its way. Another year is over. I have thoughts of ends and not beginnings. I try to ignore these feelings and enjoy the season while it lasts. I'd love autumn to go on and on...

    I enjoyed both your photos and the poem. Thank you for sharing!

    SvarSlet
    Svar
    1. Thank you for your kind words. Whenever you comment on a post on seasons, I wonder how it is to celebrate Christmas and new year's day in the middle of summer.

      Slet