Verb
at jage
Meaning
to hunt
| Infinitive | Nutid | Datid | Førnutid |
| at jage | jager | jagede | har jaget |
Example on how to use the verb – Danish version
Hver morgen vågner skoven til rytmen af fodtrin. Eli jager her, ligesom hans far lærte ham for årtier siden. Dengang stod den ældre mand op før daggry og ledte Eli gennem tågen, hvor hver eneste raslen af blade hviskede overlevelseshemmeligheder. “En jæger bevæger sig stille,” sagde han, “og lytter til landet.” Eli jagede ved siden af ham dengang og lærte at spore hjortespor og læse vildmarkens tegn.
Nu jager Eli alene. De seneste år har skærpet hans færdigheder; han har jaget gennem storme, sne og sommerens kvælende hede. Men i dag føles skoven anderledes. En hjort, hvis gevirer er som sammenfiltrede grene, står ved kanten af en lysning og ser på ham. Eli holder vejret og husker sin fars lektioner. Han kryber fremad, men hjorten forsvinder og smelter ind i træerne.
Frustrationen flimrer, men Eli ved, at dette er en del af dansen. Han har jaget i årevis, men vildmarken svarer altid med tålmodighed. Når skumringen maler himlen, får han øje på hjorten igen, der græsser nær en bæk. Denne gang bevæger han sig med den ynde, hans far engang roste. Pilen flyver sandt.
Eli sidder ved bålet og smiler. Generationer af jægere har vandret i disse skove, og nu jager han – ikke kun for at leve, men for de historier, de bærer med sig.
English version
Every morning, the forest wakes to the rhythm of footsteps. Eli hunts here, just as his father taught him decades ago. Back then, the older man would rise before dawn, guiding Eli through the mist, where every rustle of leaves whispered secrets of survival. “A hunter moves quietly,” he’d say, “and listens to the land.” Eli hunted beside him then, learning to track deer trails and read the signs of the wild.
Now, Eli hunts alone. The past years have sharpened his skills; he has hunted through storms, snow, and the stifling heat of summer. Yet today, the forest feels different. A stag, its antlers like tangled branches, stands at the edge of a clearing, watching him. Eli holds his breath, remembering his father’s lessons. He creeps forward, but the stag vanishes, melting into the trees.
Frustration flickers, but Eli knows this is part of the dance. He has hunted for years, yet the wild always answers with patience. As dusk paints the sky, he spots the stag again, grazing near a stream. This time, he moves with the grace his father once praised. The arrow flies true.
Sitting by his fire, Eli smiles. Generations of hunters have walked these woods, and now, he hunts—not just for sustenance, but for the stories they carry.
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