Would you care to move, young Miss, To a breast you can rely on? It's a snug, bright room is this In my heart to cast your eye on, — But my life there's so absurd, Sad and lonesome, — take my word, In its walls, without much trouble We'd find space to make a double! True, there's many a little maid Dropped in, peeping through the entry, But the casual visit paid Only leaves the room more empty; When she's curtseyed her good-byes, Thanked me kindly, formal-wise, She's forgotten — but the visit's Left me bored and with the fidgets. No, I can't go on this way, As I see the situation! If you please, move in to-day, Sign a lease for the duration, — We're agreed on terms, in sum, Only come, young Miss, do come! — Let the sun while still on station Witness our cohabitation! — &nb sp;True, the room's no hall, its clear, For a blaring social meeting, — Plain and cool while summer's here, Not, come winter, short of heating; — There's one picture on the wall — It's my portrait — and that's all; I shall paint, should you decide it, A friendly cherub close beside it. Then a tidy of the room. — Everything to its compartment, Then I'll feel no empty gloom Henceforth in my heart's apartment; Sabbath-smiles the whole day long, Life one smoothly-flowing song, I shall guard your every pleasure As my room's most priceless treasure! Henrik Ibsen, translated by John Northam