Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
On the other hand, you are thoroughly up to date as far as the aesthetic occurrences are concerned; you have heard the latest prose poem. We have so many young writers; we have Ojen, and we have Irgens, and we have Paulsberg, and we have many more. That is the young Norway. I see them on the streets occasionally. They stalk past me as poets should stalk past ordinary people.
He began to lose his temper; he demanded a reply in a loud voice. Mrs. Hanka said suddenly: "Silence, now. Ojen is going to read another poem." Both Paulsberg and Irgens made secretly a wry face, but they said nothing; on the contrary, Paulsberg nodded encouragingly. When the noise had subsided a little Ojen got up, stepped back, and said: "I know this by heart. It is called 'The Power of Love."
But at this the two young students, the close-cropped poets, laughed loudly, and the one with the compass in his fob said admiringly: "And you ask for our indulgence? What about us, then?" "Quiet!" "The title of this is 'Sentenced to Death," said Ojen, and began: For a long time I have wondered: What if my secret guilt were known?... Sh.... Yes, sh.... For then I should be sentenced to death.
But if it wasn't funny, all right.... Ole took out his manuscript. "It is something out of the ordinary," he said. "Ojen calls it 'Memories." "Let me read it," said Norem quickly. "I am, at any rate, supposed to know a little about reading." Ole handed him the manuscript. "Jehovah is very busy " began Norem.
No; whatever else one can accuse Ojen of, the ladies he leaves severely alone!" said Norem, good-natured and tipsy. "Your health, Mr. College Man!" shouted Gregersen again. Ole Henriksen looked at him. "Do you mean me?" he asked. "Of course, I mean you, certainly I do! Haven't you attended college? Well, aren't you a college man, then?" The Journalist, too, was a little tipsy.
The Attorney spied Ojen on the sidewalk; he excused himself and stepped out of the procession. He looked back a moment later and saw that Coldevin had changed places again; he was marching under the business-men's banner, erect, grey-bearded, and shabby, with the glint of the Norwegian colours on his lapel. Aagot was dressed for the excursion; she pulled on her gloves and was ready.
Yes, he had suddenly made up his mind, he would make this little trip; he had, in fact, a sort of reason for going And he was so much in earnest that he buttonholed Ojen at once and arranged the day for the departure. The Journalist drank with Mrs. Paulsberg, who held her glass in a peculiar masculine fashion.
No sooner had his eyes beheld the straight lines of streets and houses than his brain was aquiver, and he had conceived that Egyptian prose poem. If that had been lost, now.... Milde had lately begun to appreciate Ojen; at last his eyes had been opened to his poetry's delicate uniqueness. Irgens, who sat close enough to hear this unusual praise, leaned over to Mrs.
He chatted, entertained the ladies, helped even poor Ojen, who suffered greatly. Mrs. Hanka's spirits also rose; she was lively and cheerful, and a strange association of ideas made her suddenly decide to ask her husband for a couple of hundred crowns this very evening. Tidemand was at the tiller and could not be dislodged; he sailed the boat and did not utter a syllable.
There were Ojen, Norem, and Gregersen, all of them with half-empty wine-glasses in front of them. Ojen jumped up and said pleasantly: "Welcome home, old man! I am glad to see you again. I have missed you a good deal. I am coming down to-morrow to see you. There is something I want to see you about." Gregersen gave him a finger. Ole took it, sat down, and told the waiter to bring him his beer.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking