Trenger noen tekster til en juleavslutning for voksne. Bestillingen lyder på fortelling og/ eller dikt (blir sanger også, men det er lettere å finne..)
Forslag som ikke er juleevangeliet?
Har Grantreet av H.C. Andersen på blokka.
Ser på nett at Hanna Wisnes har en fortelling som heter Julegaven - hva handler den om? Prøvde å finne den på Nasjonalbiblioteket uten hell - burde ikke den ligge der? :vetikke:
Karens Jul av Amalie Skram er en mulighet, men da må det være noe litt mer håpefullt etter den, den er jo ganske trist.
Synes ikke det gjør noe om den handler om barn eller "egentlig" er for barn, men Karsten og Petra tenker jeg utgår.
God jol til deg
og god jol til din bror,
god jol til di syster
og til far og til mor
God jol til ein nabo
og han utpå fyret.
God jol til ein sjømann
og ein utan hyre.
God jol til dei små og
til dei som er store.
God jol til dei snille
og dei under bordet.
God jol til dei fire
som syng bass i koret,
god jol til han polske som
vaskar kontoret.
Hva med Julegaven hans Simen av Alf Prøysen?
Og hvis det er greit med noe for barn liker jeg Granen av Tove Jansson, hvor mummitrollene våkner midt i vinterdvalen og tror julen er et slemt vesen som må blidgjøres med juletre og gaver.
A Visit from Saint Nicholas
by Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863)
’T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
