The Land Of The Living
I know of a land
Where hair does not grey, and where time’s rule is banned,
Where sun does not burn, and where wave does not ring,
Where autumn embraces the blossoming spring,
Where morning and evening unceasingly dance
In noon’s brightest glance.
Oh, wonderful land,
Where glass does not run full of tear-drops as sand,
Where nothing is wanting that’s worth holding dear,
Where that does not lack which so pained us back here!
With breast filled with longing we seek ever more
Your sweet-smiling shore.
Oh, long-promised land!
We greet you in morning hour’s mirror-clear strand,
When perfect your shadow the child may espy
And dreams that in green woods is where you must lie,
Where too it can share with the rushes and flowers
Its smile and its hours.
Oh, transient dream
Of island eternal in time’s rushing stream!
Of joy’s sacred temple in life’s vale of tears,
Of life half-divine in this hall’s mortal years!
The land of the living with you melts away
From those made of clay.
Oh, hope-dashing dream!
You glittering bubble on time’s rushing stream!
In vain would the poet, with voice and with pen,
From bright-gleaming shadows create you again;
Where shadow comes closest, the small will all weep
Who on it gaze deep.
Oh, spell-binding dream
Of pearl that’s eternal in time’s rushing stream!
You fool those poor persons who all seek in vain
In image and art what the heart would retain,
And make them call lasting what just disappears
Like days, months and years.
Oh, spirit of love!
Your hand let me kiss, reaching down from above
From heaven’s fair skies to this earth’s murky hold
And touching our eyes with its fingers of gold,
So blue-tinged there climbs behind surf-roaring strand
The wonderful land!
Oh, heavenly name,
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poem by Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig
Added by Poetry Lover
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