ENLARGE
Dare not to sleep!
By Arnulf Øverland
Translated from Norwegian by Lars-Toralf Storstrand
I was awakened one morning, by the quaintest of dreams
‘twas like a voice, spoken to me
It sounded afar - like an underground stream,
I rose and said: Why do you call me?
Dare not to slumber! Dare not to sleep!
Dare not believe, it was merely a dream!
Yore I was judged.
The gallows were built in the court this evening,
They’ll come for me — 5’ in the morning
This dungeon is teeming,
And barracks stand dungeon by dungeon
we lie here, awaiting, in cold cells of stone,
We lie here, we rot, in these murky holes.
We know not ourselves, what does lie ahead
Who will be the next one they'll reach for.
We moan and we shriek: But do you take heed?
Is there none among you who’ll hearken?
No one can see us,
None know what befalls us.
Yet more:
None will believe - what the day will bring us!
And then You defy: This dare not be true!
That men can be utterly evil.
There has to be some one with merits pure
Oh, brother, you still have a great deal to learn
They said: You will give your life, if commanded
We’ve given it now, for naught it was handed
The world has forgotten, we’ve all been deceived
Dare not to sleep in this hour - this eve.
You oughtn’t go to your business hence,
Or think: What’s your loss – or what is your gain?
You oughtn’t attribute your fields and your kine,
Nor say you’ve enough - with all that is thine.
You oughn’t abide, sitting calm in your home
Saying: Dismal it is, poor they are, and alone
You cannot permit it! You dare not, at all.
Accepting that outrage on all else may fall!
I cry with the final gasps of my breath:
You dare not repose, nor stand and forget
Pardon them not - they know what they do!
They breathe on hate-glows, and evil pursue,
They fancy to slay, they revel with cries,
Their desire is to gloat, when our world is at fire!
In blood they are yearning to drown one and all!
Don’t you believe it? You’ve heard the call!
You know how infants will soldiers remain,
While dashing through streets, fields, chanting ‘bout pain
Aroused by their mothers‘ assurance of glory
They’ll shelter their land - and they’ll never worry
You know the fatality of the lies,
that glory and faith and honor abides
You discern the dauntless dreams of a child,
A saber, a banner, he’ll flaunt them so wild,
And then they’ll leave home for a rainfall of steel,
‘Till last they hang ragged on barbed wire will,
Decaying for Hitler's Aryan call,
That is what a man’s for - after all…
I couldn’t imagine – too late now it is
My sentence is just: The verdict's no miss
I believed in prosperity, dreamt about peace
In labor and fellowship; love’s fragrant kiss
Yet those who don’t die on the battlefield,
Their heads for the axeman, will certainly yield
I cry in the gloom - if only you’d knew
There is but one thing - befitting to do
Defend yourself, while your hands are still yearning,
Protect your offspring - Europe is burning.
***
I shook from the chill. To dress, up I rose
Without stars were shining, so far, yet so close
‘twere simply a brilliant ray in the east,
Admonishing warning from the dream that just ceased
The day that soared up from earths furthermost strand
Augmenting with blood — and with firebrand
It grew with terror - like a breath that was lost
It seemed like the starlight - was slain by the frost.
I weighed: Something is imminent - and it’s dire
Our era is over — Europe’s on fire!
Du må ikke sove
(Norwegian)
Jeg våknet en natt av en underlig drøm,
det var som en stemme talte til mig,
fjern som en underjordisk strøm -
og jeg reiste mig op: Hvad er det du vil mig?
-Du må ikke sove! Du må ikke sove!
Du må ikke tro, at du bare har drømt!
Igår blev jeg dømt.
Inatt har de reist skafottet i gården.
De henter mig klokken fem imorgen!
Hele kjelleren her er full,
og alle kaserner har kjeller ved kjeller.
Vi ligger og venter i stenkolde celler,
vi ligger og råtner i mørke hull!
Vi vet ikke selv, hvad vi ligger og venter,
og hvem der kan bli den neste, de henter.
Vi stønner, vi skriker - men kan dere høre?
Kan dere absolutt ingenting gjøre?
Ingen får se oss.
Ingen får vite, hvad der skal skje oss.
Ennu mer:
Ingen kan tro, hvad her daglig skjer!
Du mener det kan ikke være sant,
så onde kan ikke mennesker være.
Der fins da vel skikkelig folk iblandt?
Bror, du har ennu meget å lære!
Man sa: Du skal gi ditt liv, om det kreves.
Og nu har vi gitt det - forgjeves, forgjeves!
Verden har glemt oss! Vi er bedratt!
Du må ikke sove mer i natt!
Du må ikke gå til ditt kjøpmannskap
og tenke på hvad der gir vinning og tap!
Du må ikke skylde på aker og fe
og at du har mer enn nok med det!
Du må ikke sitte trygt i ditt hjem
og si: Det er sørgelig, stakkars dem!
Du må ikke tåle så inderlig vel
den urett som ikke rammer dig selv!
Jeg roper med siste pust av min stemme:
Du har ikke lov til å gå der og glemme!
Tilgi dem ikke; de vet hva de gjør!
De puster på hatets og ondskapens glør!
De liker å drepe, de frydes ved jammer,
de ønsker å drukne oss alle i blod!
Tror du det ikke? Du vet det jo!
Du vet jo at skolebarn er soldater,
som stimer med sang over torv og gater,
og oppglødd av mødrenes fromme svig,
vil verge sitt land og vil gå i krig!
Du kjenner det nedrige folkebedrag
med heltemot og med tro og ære -
du vet at en helt, det vil barnet være,
du vet, han vil vifte med sabel og flag!
Og så skal han ut i en skur av stål
og henge igjen i en piggtrådsvase
og råtne for Hitlers ariske rase!
Du vet, det er menneskets mening og mål!
Jeg skjønte det ikke. Nu er det for sent.
Min dom er rettferdig. Min straff er fortjent.
Jeg trodde på fremgang, jeg trodde på fred,
på arbeid, på samhold, på kjærlighet!
Men den som ikke vil dø i en flokk
får prøve alene, på bøddelens blokk!
Jeg roper i mørket - å, kunde du høre!
Der er en eneste ting å gjøre:
Verg dig, mens du har frie hender!
Frels dine barn! Europa brenner!
***
Jeg skaket av frost. Jeg fikk på mig klær.
Ute var glitrende stjernevær.
Bare en ulmende stripe i øst
varslet det samme som drømmens røst:
Dagen bakenom jordens rand
steg med et skjær av blod og brand,
steg med en angst så åndeløs,
at det var som om selve stjernene frøs!
Jeg tenkte: Nu er det noget som hender.
- Vår tid er forbi - Europa brenner!
Arnulf Øverland is frequently celebrated as a war poet, a heroic voice for the Resistance during the Nazi occupation of Norway; but over the course of his career he made many vital contributions to the political and artistic debates of his times. Øverland was a symbolist, satirist, vitalist, mystic, conservative literary critic, language conservator, critic of fundamentalist Christianity, communist agitator, and NATO supporter. Although his politics often have been criticized for involving categorical thinking and oversimplification, his perspective in his writings is complex, alternating between staunch individualism and thoughtful social engagement. While he openly attacked modernism and Christianity, Øverland was capable of being a dreamer and a spiritual poet. A prolific writer, he composed poems, short stories, plays, articles, political and religious tracts, and cultural and literary criticism. Those who disagreed with Øverland thought of his steady literary output as a plague, while his allies typically embraced him as a tireless champion. During the German occupation of Norway in 1940 in World War II, Arnulf Øverland wrote a series of poems which were clandestinely distributed, leading to his arrest. He was held first in the prison camp of Grini before being transferred to Sachsenhausen concentration camp in Germany. The poems were later collected in Vi overlever alt ("We survive everything") (1945).
© 2008 Tiden Norsk Forlag 1937
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