Don't let it fall

Det gamle træ, o, lad det stå (That Ancient Tree, Don't Let it Fall)

Det gamle træ, o, lad det stå,
indtil det dør af ælde.
Så mange ting det husker på,
hvad kan det ikke melde.
Vi det så fuldt med blomster så,
de friske grene hælde.
Det gamle træ, o, lad det stå,
det må I ikke fælde!

Nu vil jeg da på vandring gå,
men det kan jeg fornemme,
man rejser ud for hjem at nå,
thi bedst er det dog hjemme.
Når træet her har blomster på,
det vil min hjemkomst melde.
Det gamle træ, o, lad det stå,
det må I ikke fælde!

Hans Christian Andersen (1851)

That ancient tree, don't let it fall
Until old age is knelling;
So many things it can recall,
What tales it could be telling.
We once did see its blossom-haul
Each branch with fruit was swelling.
That ancient tree, don't let it fall,
You must not think of felling!

Now to be journeying I yearn
But yet the truth in part is
One does but travel to return,
For home is where one's heart is.
When this old tree stands blossom-tall,
I'm nearly home it's telling;
That ancient tree, don't let it fall,
You must not think of felling!