Danmark, trofast
Danmark kommer
ikke frem på kommando,
næh, det blir siddende
i hullet.
Vuf, sir det
og man lokker:
Kom så
kom kom kom
men Danmark går bare
længere ind i hundehuset.
Der sidder det så
og kigger på Bornholm
klør sig lidt i Skamlingsbanken
snuser til Anholt
og lår en vind gå
nede ved Fanø.
Det regner selvfølgelig udenfor
så hvorfor ulejlige sig?
Nå
man skal have fat i Danmark
og prøver igen:
Go lille vovse,
kom nu frem.
Svaret er kun en svag knurren
eller er det et spørgsmål?
Hvad skal jeg bruges til?
Bruges til og bruges til
ja, hvad ved jeg?
Måske skal du klappes
Danmark
måske ha et spark bagi.
Måske skal vi ud og løbe sammen
en rask tur henover Lillebælt
hvad med et kig på
Hindsgavl, slottet
husker du
deroppe på bakken
flagstangen
det er altid sidst i maj
og der står Frantz Wendt
med fem svaner i favnen
og digtere spiller på harpe
i en pavillon af glas
og der står en fuld mand
yderst på broen
støtter sig til verden
gennem strålen af urin
der går fra ham til bæltets vand
han er også digter.
Danmark
ville du ikke gerne se det?
Danmark brummer atter
og stikker Skagen frem
og virrer med Hals Barre
siger vuf igen
men blir siden large
og siger: „Vuffer?"
Jo, det skal jeg sige dig, du gamle
det er sjovt at se på Danmark
det skal ikke gøres alt for tit
men en gang hvert tredvte år
må vovsen ud at ses på
ud at se.
Heja, Danmark
du skal løfte ben i egnen
omkring Kolding
og gø en gang
så Læsø ryger om til Hven.
Kom så dasse lille Fido
fatters Trofast
du skal luftes lidt!
Dänemark kommt
nicht auf Kommando heraus,
nee, bleibt ruhig sitzen
in seinem Loch.
„Wuff", sagt's,
und man lockt:
„Na, komm schon,
komm, komm, komm",
doch Dänemark verzieht sich nur
tiefer in seine Hundehütte.
Da sitzt es nun
und guckt auf Bornholm,
kratzt sich kurz am Skamlingsbanken,
schnüffelt in Richtung Anholt
und läßt einen Wind streichen
unten bei Fanø.
Wie gewöhnlich regnet es draußen,
warum also sich aufraffen?
Nun,
man will Dänemark bei sich haben
und versucht's noch einmal:
„Komm doch, mein Hündchen,
komm heraus."
Die Antwort ist ein leises Knurren,
oder ist's eine Frage?
„Was hat man mit mir vor?"
Was man vorhat, was soll
man denn vorhaben?
Vielleicht will man dich streicheln,
Dänemark,
vielleicht bekommst du einen Tritt.
Vielleicht machen wir einen Lauf,
eine flotte Tour übern Kleinen Belt,
was hältst du von einem Sprung nach
Hindsgavl, dem Schloß,
du weißt,
auf dem Hügel,
die Fahnenstange,
es ist immer Ende Mai,
und dort steht Frantz Wendt,
fünf Schwäne im Arm,
und Dichter spielen Harfe
in einem Pavillon aus Glas,
und ein Betrunkener steht
am Rand der Brücke,
sucht Halt in der Welt,
gestützt auf einen Strahl Urin,
der ihn mit dem Belt verbindet,
auch er ist ein Dichter,
Dänemark,
hast du nicht Lust, das zu sehen?
Dänemark brummt abermals
und streckt Skagen heraus
und dreht den Hals Barre,
sagt nochmals „Wuff",
aber läßt sich dennoch herab
und fragt: „Woruff?"
Ja, das will ich dir sagen, mein Alter,
Dänemark sehen ist eine Freude,
es darf nur nicht allzu häufig sein,
doch, sagen wir, jedes dreißigste Jahr
muß Schnuffi raus und sich sehen lassen,
raus und sehen.
Hopphopp, Dänemark,
du sollst dein Bein
bei Kolding anheben
und kräftig bellen,
daß Laeso davonfliegt bis nach Hven.
Komm, alter fauler Fido,
Herrchens Treu,
du mußt ein bißchen an die Luft!
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Country in which the text is setDenmark
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Featured locations
Bornholm Skamlingsbanken Anholt Fanø Lillebelt Hindsgavl Skagen Hals Kolding Læsø Hven
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Impact
Patriotic songs and poems (Fædrelandssange) can surely only be written by those with an intimate relationship to their homeland. And yet even when they are, are such works always Heimatlieder, the kind of “songs of home” often characterized by a sentimental tone? This is certainly not the case with Klaus Rifbjerg’s work. Although the poems in this collection can be seen as expressing a deep affection for something beloved, they do so in a way that is completely unsentimental and at times even somewhat brittle. And in fact this was precisely what was demanded by a conservative Danish politician in the mid-1960s, who argued that poets should for once write songs dedicated to their fatherland. Rifbjerg responded to this call in his own way and not, of course, to the satisfaction of conservative thinkers. As one scholar puts it, Rifbjerg confronts his inner, psychological landscapes with their external counterparts. Jørgen Bonde Jensen, Klaus Rifbjergs poesi, Copenhagen 1986).
What is Denmark in the poem Danmark, Trofast? It is an endearing puppy that one would like to pat. It sits in its kennel, not trusting itself to really venture out or too lazy to do so. Before it all of Denmark lies, with its lovely landscapes, cities, villages and islands. A pleasing land, a poetic land, embodied by Frantz Wendt, director of the “Norden” association dedicated to cultural collaboration between the Nordic states, which is symbolized by five swans and headquartered in Hindsgavl Castle on the island of Funen. But why does this “trofast” quality, this loyalty, hide itself from the world? Danmark, Trofast is a declaration of love for the fatherland and motherland and gives poetic voice to Rifbjerg’s more matter-of-fact statement, “I am a Dane through and through.”
The widely travelled, rambling poet can never cut the ties binding him to his homeland, for this is the land of his childhood. It is to this primal soil that the writer always returns. Kronborg Castle of Hamlet fame is not sung of as the fortress facing Sweden across the Øresund but as something that suggests the memory of a school excursion, a feeling of, among other things, boredom and weariness. Don’t we all remember this from our own outings with parents or our school class? Nevertheless, it is part of a spiritual landscape, a source of strength to which Rifbjerg repeatedly returns — childhood.
And then there is Skagen, the picturesque landscape where the North Sea and the Baltic (or more correctly the Kattegat) meet. A landscape characterized by the unique quality of light that enchanted the painters of the late nineteenth century. Rifbjerg’s poem Skagen virtually recreates the paintings themselves: artist Peder Krøyer with his wife and dog taking an evening stroll on the beach, or the Skagen painters together at table, raising a glass to life and art. This, too, is part of Rifbjerg’s spiritual landscape. It was there, on the tip of Jutland, that he spent holidays as a child, and where he still spends his summers. Skagen — a moveable feast. However, there is also “a hint of death” in the air. And it is here that the present breaks into the poem: idylls, the land of fairytales — that was once upon time.
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Balticness
Anyone born on an island cannot help but have a relationship to water. And anyone born on the island of Amager, which forms part of Copenhagen’s extension into the Øresund, will always be drawn to water, whether to the Baltic, the North Sea or the Mediterranean. In Denmark you are always close to the sea and it is therefore hardly surprising that water is a central motif of Rifbjerg’s poems. In his work the country and its surrounding waters represent an existential elixir. His “fatherland songs” are reflections of his own being.
Lutz Volke
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Translations
Language Year Translator German 1991 Lutz Volke -
Year of first publication1967
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Place of first publicationCopenhagen