cultural resources in henrik ibsen's early environment - Ibsen.net

I cannot pray any more:
Fear and yearning, sorrow and yearning
Sit watching in my breast,
And when devotion wants to unfold
Its big, bright wings,
Cold seizes my heart,
Whispers darkly in my ear,
And I cannot pray any more.
In my childhood, in my childhood
They taught me to pray so nicely!
They put my hands together,
Had me kneel whole hours
On the hard, cold stones
In the dark prayer chamber.
But I cried and cried, and longed
For my playgrounds.
For the child's prayer is like the bird's:
Flight and play and happy songs,
Green meadows, fresh forests,
Heaven around its chaste head.
Now I have no songs in me,
I cannot see the green meadows,
Or breathe the cool forests,
I have no air, no flower, no freedom;
Now I walk to the prayer chamber,
Kneel on the hard stones,
Sigh for consolation in prayer:
But I cannot pray any more.
Oh how sad and lonely it is
Within these old walls!
These dark, massive arches
Erect a vault over the grave of my hope
And my husband's evil eyes
Look at me from all the corners.
It is as if something sad
Lurks here in the night!
This stillness makes me anxious;
Maja! Maja! She is sleeping!
Sleep! Sleep! Those who could sleep, forget!
This indolent body can sleep,
This empty soul can repose
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