CALLE SCHEVENS WALTZ
Evert Taube


On Roslagenīs isle, in a flowery bay,
Where ripples wash in from the sea,
The reeds slowly rock, and the sweet new-mown hay
Is wafting its fragrance to me.
There I sit alone īmid the trees by the way
And gaze at the sea-birds on high.
They dive to the water with glitter of spray
And feed, while I watch them and sigh.

Iīm mixing my coffee quite freely with rum
To a strength and a flavour just right!
The accordion's measures alluringly come
From my cabin so gaily alight.
I feel like a boy, though a granddad am I:
My spirit my grey hair belies.
I only get worse as the years pass me by,
With waltzes and maidensī bright eyes.

Look – there is a gull with a fish he has caught;
But Iīm caught by arms soft and white!
My heart is so happy, my years are as naught;
Then play, for Iīm dancing to-night!
The sea sends a song, and its fragrance the glade;
To-night you must stay as my guest.
Here dances Calle Scheven with Roslagenīs maid – 
The sunset is in the Northwest

My flowery isle on your bosom you hold,
You tranquil and darkling blue seas!
While June twilight shadows so tender, enfold
All the slumbering bushes and trees.
You're dancing so quietly, sweet little miss – 
I think that all men you despise.
It trembles, that small childish hand that I kiss,
While in minor the waltz softly dies.

But hey, all you fellows who visit my bay
Iīm really a sober old man,
When morning has come I must stack up my hay, 
And catch all the fish that I can!
The deuce take you, twilight; the morn you disclose
In firtops agleam one by one – 
Here dances Calle Scheven with Roslagenīs rose
He dances while up comes the sun!