Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do...
Language: English
Available translation(s): GER
Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease!
Reject me not into the world again.
With you alone is excellence and peace,
Mankind made plausible, his purpose plain.
Enchanted in your air benign and shrewd,
With limbs a-sprawl and empty faces pale,
The spiteful and the stingy and the rude
Sleep like the scullions in the fairy-tale.
This moment is the best the world can give:
The tranquil blossom on the tortured stem.
Reject me not, sweet sounds; oh, let me live,
Till Doom espy my towers and scatter them,
A city spell-bound under the aging sun.
Music my rampart, and my only one.
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by John Woods Duke (1899 - 1984), "Sweet sounds, o beautiful music", 1959 [voice, viola, and piano], from Three Sonnets for Voice, Viola and Piano, no. 1. [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]
- by Lloyd Alvin Pfautsch (b. 1921), "On hearing a Symphony of Beethoven", published 1966. [soprano and SSA chorus a cappella] [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]
- by Ivana M. Themmen , "On hearing a Symphony of Beethoven" [soprano and orchestra], from Shelter this candle from the wind [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Walter A. Aue) , "Beim Anhören einer Beethoven Symphonie", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2008-10-02
Line count: 14
Word count: 104
Beim Anhören einer Beethoven Symphonie
Language: German (Deutsch)  after the English
End' nicht, Musik des Schönen, süßer Klang!
Stoß' nicht zurück mich, in was einmal war.
In Dir klingt Güte, singt des Friedens Sang,
wird Menschheit möglich, wird ihr Wille klar.
Es schläft in Deinem Bann von Güt' und Lob
- weit ausgestreckt, Gesichter leergestellt
und bleich - was boshaft, geizig oder grob,
wie Küchenjungen in der Märchenwelt.
Das ist das Beste, was die Erde treibt:
Die sanfte Blüte auf entstelltem Beet.
Verstoßt nicht, Klänge! Laßt mich leben heut
bis Weltgericht die Türme mein verweht,
verzaubert' Festung, greiser Sonne Grab.
Musik, mein Wall: Der einz'ge, den ich hab.
Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-03-26
Line count: 14
Word count: 97