Verb
at drikke
Meaning
to drink
| Infinitive | Nutid | Datid | Førnutid |
| at drikke | drikker | drak | har drukket |
Example on how to use the verb – Danish version
I udkanten af det travle marked holder Maya pause ved en lille, turkis kiosk, hvor duften af friske krydderurter krøller sig ind i luften.
Hun drikker en dampende myntete og mærker varmen stige op fra koppen, og roen sænke sig over hendes skuldre. Tidligere på morgenen har hun drukket tre bitre espressoer for at holde sig vågen til de lange forhandlinger, der ventede hende, og teens pludselige sødme føles som et lille oprør mod dagens slid.
Mens hun nipper, drak en ældre mand ved siden af hende af et afskallet porcelænskrus. Hans øjne glimtede, mens han mindedes floden, hvor han engang lærte at drikke af det klare bjergvand, en vane han havde fulgt hver sommer i sin ungdom.
Samtalen glider fra vejr til minder, og Maya bemærker, hvordan hver historie er præget af den simple handling af væske, der passerer læberne – hvad enten det er den hurtige slurk vand efter en spurt, den langsomme nydelse af vin ved et bryllup eller den nervøse slurk kaffe før en præsentation. Da solen synker lavt, drikker hun den sidste dråbe te, taknemmelig for, at en enkelt drik kan binde fremmede, sammenknytte fortid og nutid og minde hende om, at selv den mindste slurk bærer på en historie.
English version
At the edge of the bustling market, Maya pauses by a tiny, turquoise kiosk where the scent of fresh herbs curls into the air.
She drinks a steaming mint tea, feeling the heat rise from the cup and the calm settle over her shoulders. Earlier that morning, she had drunk three bitter espressos to stay awake for the long negotiations that awaited her, and the sudden sweetness of the tea feels like a small rebellion against the day’s grind.
While she sips, an elderly man beside her drank from a chipped porcelain mug, his eyes twinkling as he recalled the river where he once learned to drink from the clear mountain water, a habit he had drunk in every summer of his youth.
The conversation drifts from weather to memories, and Maya notices how each story is punctuated by the simple act of liquid passing lips—whether it is the quick gulp of water after a sprint, the slow savoring of wine at a wedding, or the nervous gulp of coffee before a presentation. By the time the sun dips low, she drinks the last drop of tea, grateful that a single beverage can bind strangers, stitch together past and present, and remind her that even the smallest sip carries a story.
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