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Blåbær-Li, 'Blueberry Slope' (1895) Op. 67 no.3


Part of a series or song cycle:

Haugtussa (Op. 67)


Blåbær-Li, 'Blueberry Slope'

Nei sjå, kor det blåner her!
No må me roa oss, Kyra!
Å nei, slike fine Bær,
og dei, som det berre kryr a’!
Nei, Maken eg hev kje set!
Sumt godt her er då tilfjells.
No vil eg eta meg mett;
her vil eg vera til Kvelds!
Men kom no den Bjønnen stor!—
Her fekk bli Rom åt oss båe.
Eg torde kje seia eit Ord
til slik ein røsjeleg Våe.
Eg sa berre: ver so god!
No må du kje vera bljug!
Eg lêt deg so væl i Ro;
ta for deg etter din Hug.
Men var det den Reven rau,
so skuld’ han få smaka Staven;
eg skulde banka han dau,
um so han var Bror til Paven.
Sligt skarve, harmelegt Sleng!
Han stel både Kje og Lam.
Men endå so fin han gjeng,
hev korkje Agg hell Skam.
Men var det den stygge Skrubb,
so arg og so hôl som Futen,
eg tok meg ein Bjørkekubb
og gav han ein god på Snuten.
Han reiv sund Sauer og Lamm
for Mor mi so trådt og tidt;
ja sant! um han berre kom,
skuld’ han so visst få sitt.
Men var det den snilde Gut
der burte frå Skare-Brôte,
han fekk vel ein på sin Trut,—
men helst på ein annan Måte.
Å Tøv, kva tenkjer eg på!
Det lid nok på Dagen alt …
Eg må til Buskapen sjå;
ho »Dokka« drøymer um Salt.

Blueberry Slope

Look how blue it is here!
Now cattle, we shall rest ourselves!
Oh, what fine berries
And so many of them.
No, I’ve never seen anything like it!
Some things are good in the mountains.
Now, I’ll eat my fill;
I could stay here until evening time.
But, what if the big bear appeared?
There would have to be room for both of us!
I wouldn’t dare say a word
To such a terrible beast.
I would say: ‘berries; please have some!
Don’t be shy,
I’ll leave you in peace;
Please take whatever you want!’
But, if it were the red fox,
He’d get a taste of my stick;
I would beat him to death,
Even if he was the Pope’s brother.
Such a despicable, awful devil,
He takes both lambs and kids.
But still, he walks so proudly
Feeling no regrets or shame at all.
But, if it were the wicked wolf,
As angry and mean as the bailiff,
I would take a birch club
And hit him hard on the jaw.
He’s always destroying
My mother’s sheep and lambs.
Yes, indeed! If he would only come
He’d get his just reward!
But, if it were that nice lad
Who comes from Skare-Brote.
He’d get one on the mouth
But perhaps in a different way…
How stupid, what am I thinking of?
The day is getting on.
I must go back to the cattle,
For ‘Dokka’ is dreaming of salt.

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