Verblühte Malven stehen
Den Gartenweg entlang,
Rosenblätter verwehen;
In einer fernen Laube
Tönt Laute und Gesang.
"Wir wollen nimmer reden,
Die Worte sind so schwer.
Da nimm von den Reseden
Noch einen Strauß zur Reise,
Bald gibt es keine mehr."
Nun ist sie weggegangen
Mit ihrem leichten Schritt
Und nimmt auf ihren Wangen
Mir alle meine Rosen
Und meinen Sommer mit.
About the headline (FAQ)
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada, but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.
Confirmed with Hermann Hesse, Sämtliche Werke, herausgegeben von Volker Michels, Band 10 Die Gedichte, bearbeitet von Peter Huber, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 2002, pages 169-170.
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Les mauves sont fanées", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2009-05-15
Line count: 15
Word count: 61
Faded hollyhocks stand
Along the garden path,
Rose petals scatter;
In a distant bower
Sounds a lute and singing.
"Let us never speak,
Words are too difficult.
Here, take of mignonettes
A bouquet yet for your journey,
Soon there shall be no more of them."
Now she has gone away
With her light step
And upon her cheeks she takes
All of my roses
And my summer with her.