Strövtåg I Hembygden

There's a shimmer in the clouds and glitter in the lake,
There's light over beaches and capes
And around stands the lovely green forest
Behind the swaying grass of the meadows.

And with summer and beauty and forest wind chords
My hometown stands and greets me happily,
Be greeted by me! - but where is my father's farm,
It's empty behind the row of maples.

It's empty, it's burnt, it's ravaged and cold,
Where it stood, lies the bare rock,
But over it, memory goes with the cool wind,
And that memory is all that's left.

And it's as if I saw a white gable stand
And a window open in it,
Like a piano playing and a cheerful piece
Of a song with a lively melody.

And it's as if it were my father's voice,
When he was still happy and young,
Before the song fell silent in his dying chest
And his life became sad and heavy.

It's empty, it's burnt, I want to lay down
By the lake to hear its speech
About the old, gone, as time passed,
About the old in the valley of yore.

And its sorrowful and murmuring answer he gives,
But as faint as if it were only a dream:
'It's been thrown to the wind twenty years ago,
It's dead and buried and forgotten.

Where you remember dear figures and visions,
There stands the desolate emptiness,
And my eternal lullaby is all that remains
Of the old in the valley of yore.