Klokken er fem.

It is five o'clock.

Det er torsdag eftermiddag i København.

It is Thursday afternoon in Copenhagen.

Brostenene på Dronning Louises Bro gløder næsten i aftensolen, mens cyklerne brummer.

The cobblestones on Queen Louise's Bridge almost glow in the evening sun, while the bicycles hum.

En mand mister balancen.

A man loses his balance.

Han hedder Lars.

His name is Lars.

Ude af stand til at bevæge sig, bliver Lars fanget i en uendelig strøm af cykler.

Unable to move, Lars is caught in an endless stream of bicycles.

Han kigger på sin cykel.

He looks at his bike.

Skævt hjul.

Crooked wheel.

Så meget for den tur hjem.

So much for the ride home.

Folk ruller forbi og mumler en irriteret "Hvad sker der?

People roll by and mumble an annoyed "What's happening?"

" Lars føler sig som en korkprop i en flaske, som en prop i Københavns cykelstropper.

Lars feels like a cork in a bottle, like a cork in Copenhagen's bike lanes.

Men Lars har en plan.

But Lars has a plan.

Han rækker ned i sin taske og hiver sin harmonika frem.

He reaches down into his bag and pulls out his harmonica.

Trækker vejret dybt og starter det første lille melodiske træk.

He takes a deep breath and starts the first little melodic pull.

Lyden er klar og sød, så vidunderligt malplaceret i myldretiden.

The sound is clear and sweet, so wonderfully out of place in rush hour.

Folk begynder at standse.

People begin to stop.

En kvinde med rødt hår og en hestehale, en mand med skæg og lyseblå øjne, en flok skolebørn, der griner af det absurde syn.

A woman with red hair and a ponytail, a man with a beard and light blue eyes, a group of schoolchildren laughing at the absurd sight.

Lars spiller videre, hans melodier blander sig med duften af bagerbrød, lyden af vand, der risler fra en nærliggende fontæne og den svage susen af træerne fra Botanisk Have.

Lars continues to play, his melodies blending with the scent of bakery bread, the sound of water trickling from a nearby fountain, and the faint rustling of the trees from the Botanic Garden.

Mens Lars spiller, begynder folk at slappe af.

As Lars plays, people start to relax.

Smilende ansigter erstatter de frustrerede.

Smiling faces replace the frustrated ones.

En ung kvinde begynder at danse, hendes cykelhjul hvirvler rundt, mens hun ler.

A young woman starts to dance, her bicycle wheels spinning around as she laughs.

En dreng nikker taktfast med hovedet.

A boy nods his head in rhythm.

Mænd og kvinder, børn, alle sammen er de del af et underligt koncertpublikum i aftensolen.

Men and women, children, all of them become part of a strange concert audience in the evening sun.

Lars føler sig ikke længere som en prop.

Lars no longer feels like a cork.

Han føler sig som dirigenten for en symfoni.

He feels like the conductor of a symphony.

Harmonikaens klage-toner blander sig med en ung piges sang.

The harmonica's plaintive tones blend with a young girl's singing.

Andre blive med i melodien, og det hele bliver til en improviseret aftenkoncert på Dronning Louises Bro mens solen sætter.

Others join in the melody, and it all turns into an impromptu evening concert on Queen Louise's Bridge as the sun sets.

Til sidst dør trafikken hen.

Eventually, the traffic dies down.

Broen forbliver fyldt med latter og spontan musik.

The bridge remains filled with laughter and spontaneous music.

Lars packer forsigtigt sin harmonika ned.

Lars carefully packs away his harmonica.

"Tak," siger han, og hans stemme når alle ører.

"Thank you," he says, and his voice reaches everyone's ears.

Han får klapsalver, og han smiler.

He receives applause, and he smiles.

Han løfter sin ødelagte cykel op og begynder at gå.

He lifts his broken bike and starts walking.

En skønne dag vil han få repareret sin cykel.

One day, he will get his bike repaired.

Men indtil da, vil han huske denne dag, dagen han sad fast i myldretiden og brugte sin harmonika til at bringe lidt lettelse til byens trætte rejsende.

But until then, he will remember this day, the day he was stuck in rush hour and used his harmonica to bring some relief to the tired travelers of the city.

Torsdag eftermiddag i København blev til en torsdag, de aldrig ville glemme.

Thursday afternoon in Copenhagen turned into a Thursday they would never forget.

Klokken er nu otte om aftenen.

It is now eight o'clock in the evening.

Dronning Louises Bro gløder mildt i aftensuset.

Queen Louise's Bridge glows softly in the twilight.

Fugle kvitrer oppe i træerne.

Birds chirp up in the trees.

Månen titter frem.

The moon peeks out.

Musikken har sin egen tid og sit eget sted, og denne gang var det midt på en bro i København.

Music has its own time and its own place, and this time it was in the middle of a bridge in Copenhagen.

Og Lars, manden med harmonikaen, var symfoniens dirigent.

And Lars, the man with the harmonica, was the conductor of the symphony.

Men nu er forestillingen forbi, og livet går videre.

But now the show is over, and life goes on.