Døde-Dands, Death to the Turk

Barbar! som Christi Kors med dine Fødder træder,
Og ved Bedrageren, din Mahomet, dig glæder;
I Døde=Dandsen du med mig nu dandse maae,
Og skal din Ondskabs Løn hos Falskheds Vidner faae.
Vellystens Paradiis, som Mahomet beskriver,
Dig om et Øyeblik nu aabenbaret bliver;
Men om du Selskab faaer ey just af Jomfruer,
Saa vil en Dievle=Flok dig sikkert møde der.
Min Piil nu strax skal staae udi dit vantroe Hierte.
Hvad din Forhærdelse i Tiden da ey lærte,
Derom du Kundskab vil i Ævigheden faae,
Hvor du ved Siden af din Mahomet skal staae.

Barbarian! who steps on the cross of Christ with your feet,(1)
and who are pleased with the impostor Mahomet (2);
In the dance of death you must now dance with me,
and receive the wages of your wickedness by false witnesses.
The paradise of lust that Mahomet describes,
shall be revealed for you in a moment;
But if you don't get a company of maidens,
then a flock of devils will certainly meet you there.
My arrow shall soon stand in your infidel heart.
What your inveteracy did not learn in time,
you will receive knowledge of in eternity,
where you shall stand beside your Mahomet.

The Turk to Death

Vil du ved dette Liv mig nu saa mordisk skille,
Og mig mit Paradiis som Helved forestille?
Da er du den Tyran, som Verden kalder dig,
Hvis store Graadighed er høyst u=mættelig.
Jeg ey ved Christi Kors og Død vil salig blive.
Propheten Mahomet sin Himmel mig skal give.
Er ey hans Paradiis af Vellyster opfyldt,
Har dog ey nogen Tyrk for Haabet ham beskyldt.
Sig noget i min Siel ved Dødens Ankomst rører;
Men det maae være Skræk, som Døden med sig fører.
Jeg om Samvittighed mig ikke bryde vil.
Luk Ævigheden op, og Livets Dør kun til.

Will you separate me from this life so murderously,
and represent my paradise as Hell?
Then you are the tyrant that the word calls you,
who's great greed is most insatiable.
I will not be blessed by Christ's cross and death.
The prophet Mahomet shall give me his heaven.
If his paradise is not full of sensual pleasures,
then no Turk has accused him for the hope.
Something in my soul moves by the arrival of Death;
but that must be terror, that Death brings along.
I won't care for conscience.
Open up the eternity and just close Life's door.

* * * *

Naar Døden legger Haand paa ondt og vantroe Hierte,
Erfarer Sielen vist en Deel af Helveds Smerte,
Endskiønt Forhærdelsen hos det tilstaaer det ey;
Men mellem Haab og Frygt bortgaaer all Kiødets Vey.

When Death lays hand on evil and infidel heart,
the soul surely experiences a part of Hell's pain.
Although its inveteracy doesn't admit it;
but between hope and fear goes the way of all flesh.

The imposter Mahomet . . .: Mohammed. This might explain why Niels Prahl wrote Døde-Dands anonymously. He was probably afraid of having to live underground with Salman Rushdie and Jyllands-Posten's cartoonists (8=