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Description
This is an illutration I made of Briar Rose/Sleeping Beauty for my grandparents for christmas. The writing framing the illustration is a norwegian poem about Sleeping Beauty written by Andre Bjerke. I've written it in gothic calligraphy using coloured ink. The illustration was made with gauche...

Here is the verse in norwegian and english:

TORNEROSE

I den røde rosenlund
hviler hun.
Hviler i sitt hvite hår.
Vår og vinter – hundre år
ventet hun den ene som
aldri kom.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Snart er alt din sommer gav
blomstret av.
Og ditt første forårs venn
kommer aldri mer igjen
før din haves ville hekk
visner vekk.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

En gang stod han stum av rus
ved ditt hus.
Torner stengte for din grind,
og du slapp ham ikke inn.
Derfor står ditt rosenkratt
gudsforlatt.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Er det ham din fattigdom
drømmer om?
Dit hvor dine roser sner
vil han aldri vandre mer.
I en annen dronnings land
hersker han.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Om den store sødmestund
drømmer hun.
Akk, men livet går forbi
den som intet har å gi.
Øde står din have nu
stakkars du.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Uten frukt og uten frø
må du dø.
Aldri mere blir du glad,
du som våren vandret fra,
og ditt hjerte brenner ned
uten fred.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
gråter du fremdeles.

SLEEPING BEAUTY

In the red rose garden
she rests.
Rests in her white hair.
Spring and winter - for one hundred years
she awaited the one
whom never came.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Once he stood high and restless
by your house.
Thorns closed your gate
and you wouldn’t let him in.
This is why your rose bushes
now are godforsaken.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Is it he whom your poverty
dreams of?
Wherever your roses snow
he will never wander anymore.
In another Queen’s country
he reigns.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

She dreams of the
great sweetness.
Ah, but life runs past
those who have nothing to give.
Your garden stands empty now,
poor you.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Without fruit and without seeds
you must die.
Never again will you be happy,
you whom sping left,
and your heart will burn to ashes
without peace.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still weeping?

Description
This is an illutration I made of Briar Rose/Sleeping Beauty for my grandparents for christmas. The writing framing the illustration is a norwegian poem about Sleeping Beauty written by Andre Bjerke. I've written it in gothic calligraphy using coloured ink. The illustration was made with gauche...

Here is the verse in norwegian and english:

TORNEROSE

I den røde rosenlund
hviler hun.
Hviler i sitt hvite hår.
Vår og vinter – hundre år
ventet hun den ene som
aldri kom.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Snart er alt din sommer gav
blomstret av.
Og ditt første forårs venn
kommer aldri mer igjen
før din haves ville hekk
visner vekk.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

En gang stod han stum av rus
ved ditt hus.
Torner stengte for din grind,
og du slapp ham ikke inn.
Derfor står ditt rosenkratt
gudsforlatt.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Er det ham din fattigdom
drømmer om?
Dit hvor dine roser sner
vil han aldri vandre mer.
I en annen dronnings land
hersker han.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Om den store sødmestund
drømmer hun.
Akk, men livet går forbi
den som intet har å gi.
Øde står din have nu
stakkars du.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
sover du fremdeles?

Uten frukt og uten frø
må du dø.
Aldri mere blir du glad,
du som våren vandret fra,
og ditt hjerte brenner ned
uten fred.
Gamle, gamle Tornerose,
gråter du fremdeles.

SLEEPING BEAUTY

In the red rose garden
she rests.
Rests in her white hair.
Spring and winter - for one hundred years
she awaited the one
whom never came.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Once he stood high and restless
by your house.
Thorns closed your gate
and you wouldn’t let him in.
This is why your rose bushes
now are godforsaken.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Is it he whom your poverty
dreams of?
Wherever your roses snow
he will never wander anymore.
In another Queen’s country
he reigns.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

She dreams of the
great sweetness.
Ah, but life runs past
those who have nothing to give.
Your garden stands empty now,
poor you.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still sleeping?

Without fruit and without seeds
you must die.
Never again will you be happy,
you whom sping left,
and your heart will burn to ashes
without peace.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you still weeping?