FRAMAND STAD
(Vi er sju)
Ho kom mot meg med lette steg
og smilte trygg og glad.
Ho var vel en sju, åtte år
var fattig kledd, men sunn og vakker
med sitt mjuke hår
og kjaken frisk og rund.
-Kor mange sysken har vel du, sa eg.
Straks fekk eg svar
-Kor mange sysken? Vi er sju.
Sju born har mor og far
-Kvar er de andre, sa eg så
og atter svara ho:
-To er i byen långt herfrå, og ut til sjøs drog to,
to ligg på kyrkjegarden her
ei syster og ein bror –
og i eit hus tett innmed der
bur eg med far og mor.
Eg drygde litt, så spurde eg:
-Og enda seier du at de er sju?
Ho såg på meg og sa:
-Ja, vi er sju.
-Men kjære barn, du veit da visst
om fire heimat kjem,
er to av dykk for evig mist -
no er det bare fem
-På gravene veks blom og gras,
sa veslejenta fort
-eg ser det frå mitt kjøkenglas,
og titt dit spring eg bort.
Der er eg alltid trygg og sæl
eg sit nå her og syr
eg syng for dei
og titt fortel eg dei eit eventyr
og mang ein kveld når sol går ned
og det er vakkert vær,
da tek eg mjølk og niste med
så et eg kveldsmat der.
Først døde Anna, syster mi
ho sjukna inn så brått.
Ho låg og lei ei lita tid,
men så fekk ho det godt.
Da snøen kom og la seg til
så eg fekk ut på ski,
vert veslebror óg kvit og still,
og gjekk til syster mi.
-Men vesle jente,
desse to er døde, skjønar du
-kor mange sysken har du no?
Ho svara: Vi er sju
-Men dei er døde barnet mitt
i himlen får dei bu
Den vesle jenta stod på sitt,
ho svara like fast og blidt:
-Javisst, og vi er sju
Oversatt av Halldis Moren Vesaas
We Are Seven
by William Wordsworth.
–A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
–Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!–I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run above, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
‘Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"