I thought you guys might have been misled about the identity of my warrior king. Anyway, here is a poem written by an adoring countryman of his in 1818, at the centenary of his death, with my translation after each section.
Original author: Esais Tegnér
English translation: J.E.D.Bethune & C.H.Wallace (I mixed up the 2 versions)
King Charles, the conquering boy,
Stood up in dust and smoke;
He shook his sword for joy,
and through the battle broke.
How Swedish iron bites,
We will make trial new;
Stand back, you Muscovites;
Forward! My lads in blue!
查ç†çŽ‹ï¼Œå°‘æ¸…ç‹‚ï¼Œ
起立烽烟临战场。
泰阿漫舞å‘天笑,
碛沙披马旗飞扬。
枪刺寒锋新铸é“,
关山连海从头越。
ä¿„å†›éœ‡æ —ä¸æ•¢å‰ï¼Œ
勇士è“衣阵如雪。
Not ten to one appal
The angry Vasa’s son;
Those fled, who did not fall:
So was his course begun,
Three Kings he drove asunder,
Who leagued against him stood;
And Europe saw with wonder
A beardless Thundergod.
以一当å虎剑光,
瓦è¨éª„儿气凌è‹ã€‚
纷纷è™éª‘奔还å ,
åˆè¯¾æ‰å¼€æš®å—é™ã€‚
三王俯首全欧动,
雷神颜色比何郎。
Old grey-haired schemers muttered
Their plots with wily care
The brave young hero uttered
One word, and burst their snare.
High-bosomed, goldhaired, slender,
A new Aurora came:
From his throne’s young defender,
The temptress turned in shame.
é‡é«¥æž„ç½‘ç»“ç§æ™¤ï¼Œ
é›å‡¤æ¸…å•¼ç ´å†¥é›¾ã€‚
èŽ²èŠ±ç¿ è¢–å¼„æŒå¼¦ï¼Œ
曲尽周郎终ä¸é¡¾ã€‚
So great a heart was heaving
In his true Swedish breast,
In gladness, as in grieving,
Justice he loved the best.
Though fortune smiled or lowered,
He dauntless kept the field:
He could but be o’erpowered,
He knew not how to yield.
皎月霜明枫å¶ä¸¹ï¼Œ
冰心长对玉壶寒。
è¿æ—¶ç¿»è¦†å‡å¤©æ„,
百战何求匹马还。
The stars have long been glowing
On his sepulchral stones;
A century’s moss is growing
Above the hero’s bones.
All glory that is mortal
Is fated so to fade.
His name in Northern story
Will soon be just a shade.
星垂露野照å¤åŸï¼Œ
å²ä¹…苔滋英骨沉。
è€æŸæˆè–ªæ¹˜ç«¹æ»ï¼Œ
功åçƒŸçµ®å‡ ç•™ç—•ï¼Ÿ
Yet — to the tale may hearken
This ancient saga-land,
And dwarfish talk fall silent
When giants rise to stand.
Still in the Northern forest
The lofty spirit stirs,
Not dead, but sleeping merely:
His sleep, one hundred years.
愿拟行æŒé—»æ—§å›½ï¼Œ
å·¨çµæ‹”起庸儒没。
人言直北墨林深,
时有战é‚独ç¼çƒã€‚
é’凤ä¸äº¡å”¯ç¡è¿Ÿï¼Œ
百年一梦秋河è½ã€‚
Kneel, Sweden, where reposes
Thy greatest, noblest Son;
The crumbling stone discloses
The honour thou hast won.
There bards, to read his story,
Come reverently bare;
And Sweden’s flag of glory
Is dedicated there.
长拜æ¾é™µå§é¬¼é›„,
残碑é“å—æƒ³éŸ¶å®¹ã€‚
诗人仰æ¢é—»å¤©è¯ï¼Œ
云锦织旗猎劲风。