Borte
De siste gjester
vi fulgte til grinden;
farvellets rester
tok nattevinden.
I tifoll øde
lå haven og huset;
hvor toner søde
meg nyss beruset.
Det var en fest kun, –
før natten den sorte;
hun var en gjest kun, –
og nu er hun borte.
Henrik Ibsen
(1828-1906)
Gone
The last guests,
we have seen them to the gate;
the night breeze stolen
the snatches of farewell.
In tenfold emptiness
garden and house;
where beautiful sounds
just bewitched me.
It was only a party, –
before the black night;
she was only a guest, –
and now she is gone.