THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

202
The obvious answer came out in due course;
the son was enrolled in our fighting force.
Dybbøl, a key Danish stronghold, recently taken by the Germans.
Written in Genzano, 1864.
THE POWER OF MEMORY
Hi, do you know, if a trainer’s clever,
how he’ll teach his bear something that sticks forever?
He binds the beast in a brewer’s hopper; —
then starts a fire beneath the copper.
His hurdy-gurdy starts grinding a hearty
tune out for Bruin: “Life’s one long party!”
The beast soon senses a pain that’s lancing;
he can’t stand still, so he must start dancing.
And if the melody’s played again, —
a demon of dance starts to drive him insane.
I found myself once in the copper, seated
with music full-blast, fire equally heated.
I burnt more than hide on that occasion;
the memory sticks, it defies erasion.
And each time that distant memory’s called on,
I feel I’m bound in a red-hot cauldron.
It feels like one’s quick when a sharp thorn’s in it; —
I have to dance with my verse-feet, that minute.
FROM MY HOME LIFE
The house was all silent, the street a tomb.
I sat with lamp dimly shrouded;
the room was enveloped in gentle gloom; —
bobbing children burst into the room
that Havana cigar-smoke clouded.
They came, my cherubic youngsters, — a row
of mad-cap lads and young misses
with shining cheeks and a bath-time glow.
Heigh, what sport, romping high and low
through the realms of delight and their blisses.