by
Ernst Josephson (1851 - 1906)
Svarta rosor
Language: Swedish (Svenska)
Our translations: ENG FIN FRE
Säg hvarför är du så ledsen i dag,
Du, som alltid är så lustig och glad?
Och inte är jag mera ledsen i dag
Än när jag tyckes dig lustig och glad;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.
I mitt hjerta der växer ett rosendeträd
Som aldrig nånsin vill lemna mig fred.
Och på stjelkarne sitter [tagg]1 vid tagg,
Och det vållar mig ständigt sveda och agg;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.
Men af rosor blir det en hel klenod,
Än hvita som döden, än röda som blod.
Det växer och växer. Jag tror jag förgår,
I hjertträdets rötter det rycker och slår;
Ty sorgen har nattsvarta rosor.
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• J. Sibelius View original text (without footnotes)
Note: "hjerta der" is spelled "hjärta där" in some editions.
1 Sibelius: "det tagg"
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Anna Hersey) , "Black roses", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FIN Finnish (Suomi) (Erkki Pullinen) , "Mustat ruusut", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Roses noires", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 15
Word count: 107
Black roses
Language: English after the Swedish (Svenska)
Tell me, why are you so sad today,
You, who are always so cheerful and happy?
And I am no more sad today
As when I appear to you cheerful and happy;
For grief has roses black as night.
In my heart a rose tree grows
That will never leave me in peace.
And on its branches sit thorn upon thorn,
And it causes me constant pain and bitterness;
For grief has roses black as night.
But from roses come a whole treasure,
White as death, red as blood.
It grows and grows. I believe I will perish,
My heart-tree’s roots wrench and beat;
For grief has roses black as night.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2016-06-27
Line count: 15
Word count: 111