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

When the heavenly light shines faintly from the distance, I shall be happy in the calm
night, gazing towards my star.
EVENING STROLL IN THE FOREST
It is too bright, it is too bright where the moon shines down, my heart is so wracked by
this night's peace; on every single flower, on every single leaf, stand pearldrops of the
evening dew and tremble before my eye!
It is too bright, it is too bright here by the spring's bank! Look! The wave glides much
too quietly and the image of the star in the watery depth, it seems to me, is a griefenshrouded
forget-me-not, one eye swathed in gray.
In there, farthest towards the north, where the spruce tree stands so dark, deep in the
mountain where the hulder lives (perhaps you call it a wilderness), there I have a favorite
spot, thither I shall direct my step, there is my sacred kingdom!
Do you see where the mountain's steep top is enveloped in clouds; an autumnn storm is
brewing, already the night wind blows! O, lovely; as if by a breath of spirit I feel the
storm roar around me to make me run through the night!
Away, away, deep into the forest! O, still further on, until the soul becomes entirely a
prey for this wild terror, until you almost believe the spirits of the night will follow your
hasty track no matter how you hurry!
Hush, here is the place;--calm now! Here amid the forest's bosom hear the owl screech,-do
you hear? How splendid it sounded! It is a lively melody, do not let a note pass by
your ear;--ah, how lovely!
The spruce tree stands here black and tall by the tarn's dismal shore; while the storm
rushes through the air see the mist's shadow-shroud, it drifts up, it drifts down and wraps
now around the forest's top now over the black depths.
The heart is so satisfied here, in the midst of the storm's tumult; here the face of nature
itself is a mirror of my bosom, an image of what destiny gave: no rest in life, no rest in
the grave, no rest in eternity!
IN THE AUTUMN
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