«Kristiania, det kjedeligste og tarveligste af alt kjedeligt og tarveligt, Kristiania, det stilløse og historieløse, Ola Fet, der knoter, Ola Fet, der spiller fin i Transtøvler og Floshat, Kristiania, en Smaastad uden Smaabyens Hygge, en Hovedstad uden Storstadens Liv.»
Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck By the bird's irregular babel And the leaves' litter.
By this tumult afflicted, she Observed her lover's gestures unbalance the air, His gait stray uneven Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower; She judged petals in disarray, The whole season, sloven.
How she longed for winter then!- Scrupulously austere in its order Of white and black Ice and rock; each sentiment within border, And heart's frosty discipline Exact as a snowflake.
But here - a burgeoning Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits Into vulgar motley- A treason not to be borne; let idiots Reel giddy in bedlam spring; She withdrew neatly.
And round her house she set Such a barricade of barb and check Against mutinous weather As no mere insurgent man could hope to break With curse, fist, threat Or love, either.
jaja, det får bare være greit... du har jo så morsom engelsk-blogg så! :P
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