英文版：EN OE AND GLAEN OE
ONCE upon a time， there lay off the coast of Zealand， out from Holsteinborg， two wooded islands， Vaen oe and Glaen oe， with hamlets and farms on them; theylay near the coast，they lay near each other，and now thereis only one island.
One night it was dreadful weather; the sea rose as it had not risen within the memory of man; the storm grewworse;it was Doomsday weather;it sounded as if the earth were splitting， the church bells began to swing and rang without the aid of man.
That night Vaen oe vanished in the depths of the sea;it was as if the island had never been. But many a summer night since then，with still，clear low-water，when the fisher was out spearing eels with a torch burning in the bows of his boat， he saw， with his sharp sight， deep downunder him，Vaen oe with its white church-tower and the highchurch wall;"Vaen oe is waiting for Glaen oe， " says the leg-end; he saw the island， he heard the church bells ringingdown there; but he made a mistake in that， it was assured-ly the sound made by the many wild swans， which often lie on the water here; they make sobbing and wailing soundslike a distant pea of bells.
There was a time when many old people on Glaen oe still remembered so well that stormy night， and that theythemselves， when children， had at low tide driven betweenthe two islands， as one at the present day driver over to Glaen oe from the coast of Zealand，not far from Holstein- borg; the water only comes half-way up the wheels.
"Vaen oe is waiting for Glaen oe，" was the saying，and it be-came a settled tradition.
Many a little boy and girl lay on stormp nights and thought，"To-night will come the hour when Vaen oe fetchesGlaen oe." They said their Lord's Prayer in fear and trem-bling， fell asleep， and dreamt sweet dreams，—and next morning Glaen oe was still there with its woods and corn- fields， its friendly farm-houses， and hop-gardens; the birdssang， the deer sprang; the mole smelt no sea-water， asfar as he could burrow.
And yet Claen oe's days are numbered;we cannot say how many they are，but they are numbered：one fine morning the island will have vanished.
You were perhaps， only yesterday，down there on the beach， and saw the wild swans floating on the waterbetween Zealand and Glaen oe， a sailing boat with out-spread sails glided past the woodland; you yourself droveover the shallow ford， there was no other way; the horsestrampled in the water and it splashed about the wheels ofthe wagon.
You have gone away，and perhaps travelled a little out into the wide world， and come，back again after someyears. You see the wood here encircling a big green stretch of meadow， where the hay smells sweet in front oftidy farm-houses. Where are you ?Holsteinborg still stands proudly here with its gilt spires， but not close tothe fjord， it lies higher up on the land. You go throughthe wood， along over the field， and down to the shore，—where is Glaen oe? You see no wooded island in front ofyou， you see the open water. Has Vaen oe fetched Glaen oe ，that it waited for so long?When was the stormynight on which it happened，when the earth quaked， so that old Holsteinborg was moved many thousand cock- strides up into the country?
It was no stormy night， it was on a bright sunshinyday.The skill of man raised a dam against the sea; theskill of man blew the pent-up waters away，and bound Glaen oe to the mainland. The firth has become a meadowwith luxuriant grass， Glaen oe has grown fast to Zealand.The old farm lies where it always lay. It was not Vaen oe which fetched Glaen oe， it was Zealand， which with longdike-arms seized it， and blew with the breath of pumpsand read the magic words，the word of wedlock， andZealand got many acres of land as a wedding gift.
This is a true statement， it has been duly pro- claimed， you have the fact before your eyes. The islandGlaen oe has vanished.