For Norge, Kiæmpers Fødeland,
Vi denne Skaal vil tømme,
Og naar vi først faae Blod paa Tand,
Vi sødt om Frihed drømme;
Dog vaagne vi vel op engang
Og bryde Lænker, Baand og Tvang;
For Norge, Kjæmpers Fødeland,
Vi denne Skaal udtømme!
Hver tapper Helt, blandt Klipper fød,
Vi drikke vil til Ære;
Hver ærlig Norsk, som Lænker brød,
Skal evig elsket være!
Den vrede Livvagts Vaabenbrag
Forklarer trolig Nordmænds Sag.
Hver ærlig Norsk, blandt Klipper fød,
Vi drikke nu til Ære!
En Skaal for Dig, min kjække Ven,
Og for de norske Piger!
Og har Du en, saa Skaal for den!
Og Skam faae den, som sviger!
Og Skam faae den, som elsker Tvang
Og hader Piger, Viin og Sang!
En Skaal for Dig min kjække Ven,
Og for de norske Piger!
Og nok en Skaal for Norges Fjeld,
For Klipper, Snee og Bakker!
Hør Dovres Echo raabe: “Held!”
For Skaalen tre Gang takker.
Ja tre Gang tre skal alle Fjeld
For Norges Sønner raabe Held;
Endnu en Skaal for Dig mit Fjeld,
For Klipper, Snee og Bakker!
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For Norway, birthplace of giants,
we this Toast will empty!
And when we first get our blood in a boil,
we sweetly of liberty dream.
Though we will someday wake up
and break chains, ties, and force.
For Norway, birthplace of giants,
we this Toast will empty!
Each brave hero, among cliffs born, we
will drink to his honour!
Each honest Norwegian, who chains broke,
will for ever be loved!
The wrathful guard’s crackling guns,
most likely explains Norwegians’ grievance.
Each honest Norwegian, among cliffs born,
We will drink his Honour!
A toast to you, my jolly friend,
and to Norwegian lasses!
If you have one, then a toast to that,
and shame on he, who fails!
Yes, shame he who loves force,
and hates girls, wine and song!
A toast for you, my jolly friend,
and for Norwegian lasses!
And yet a toast for Norway’s mountains,
for cliffs, snow and hills!
Hear Dovre's echoes cry: “Good Luck!”
for its toast thricefold thanking.
Yes, thrifold three all mountains will,
for sons of Norway cry Good Luck!
Still yet a toast for you, my mountain,
for cliffs, snow and hills!
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Norway