Der er et Yndigt Land (original) (raw)
Der er et Yndigt Land (There is a Lovely Land) is the (civil) national anthem of Denmark. If the royal family is present, the royal anthem Kong Christian stod ved h�jen mast is used.
The lyrics were written in 1819 by Adam Oehlenschl�ger and bore the motto: "Ille terrarum mihi praeter omnes Angulus ridet" (Horace). The music was composed in 1835 by H.E. Kr�yer, later arranged by Th. Laub and Carl Nielsen.
Danish Lyrics
Der er et yndigt land, det st�r med brede b�ge |: n�r salten �sterstrand :| Det bugter sig i bakke, dal, det hedder gamle Danmark |: og det er Frejas sal :|
Der sad i fordums tid de harniskkl�dte k�mper, |: udhvilede fra strid :| S� drog de frem til fjenders m�n, nu hvile deres bene |: bag h�jens bautasten :|
Det land endnu er sk�nt, ti bl� sig s�en b�lter, |: og l�vet st�r s� gr�nt :| Og �dle kvinder, sk�nne m�'r og m�nd og raske svende |: bebo de danskes �er :|
Hil drot og f�dreland! Hil hver en danneborger, |: som virker, hvad han kan! :| Vort gamle Danmark skal best�, s� l�nge b�gen spejler |: sin top i b�lgen bl� :|
Approximate translation:
There is a lovely land it stands with spread beech |: near the salt eastern sea :| It's winding it self in hill, valley, the name is the old Denmark |: and it is Freja's hall :|
There was in former times, the armour-suited warriors, |: rested from confict :| Then they marched towards their enemys injury, now resting their bones |: behind a large menhir :|
The very land is still lovely, because the sea waves so blue, |: and the leafage stands so green :| And noble women, beautiful maidens, and men and brisk swains |: inhabit the danish islands :|
Hail king and fatherland! Hail any danish townsman, |: that does what he can do :| Our old Denmark shall endure, as long the beech reflects |: its top in the blue waves :|
Possibly more accurate translation:
There is a lovely country it stands with broad beech |: near the salty eastern beach :| It winds itself in hill, valley, its called old Denmark |: and it is Freja's hall :|
There sat in former times, the armour-suited giants, |: rested from confict :| Then they journied forwards to their enemies injury, now resting their legs |: behind the small hill's menhir :|
That country is still lovely, because the sea waves so blue frollick, |: and the leafage stands so green :| And noble women, beautiful maidens, and men and brisk swains |: inhabit the danes' islands :|
Hail king and fatherland! Hail every a townsman, |: that works, what he can :| Our old Denmark shall endure, as long the beech reflects |: its top in the wave so blue :|