Der gute Mensch
Language: German (Deutsch)
Available translation(s): ENG FRE
Sein ist die Kraft, das Regiment der Sterne,
Er hält die Welt wie eine Nuß in Fäusten,
Unsterblich schlingt sich Lachen um sein Antlitz,
Krieg ist sein Wesen und Triumph sein Schritt.
Und wo er ist und seine Hände breitet,
Und wo sein Ruf tyrannisch niederdonnert,
Zerbricht das Ungerechte aller Schöpfung,
Und alle Dinge werden Gott und eins.
Unüberwindlich sind des Guten Tränen,
Baustoff der Welt und Wasser der Gebilde,
Wo seine guten Tränen niedersinken,
Verzehrt sich jede Form und kommt zu sich.
Gar keine Wut ist seiner zu vergleichen.
Er steht im Scheiterhaufen seines Lebens,
Und ihm zu Füßen ringelt sich verloren
Der Teufel, ein zertretner Feuerwurm.
Und fährt er hin, dann bleiben ihm zur Seite
Zwei Engel, die das Haupt in Sphären tauchen,
Und brüllen jubelnd unter Gold und Feuer,
Und schlagen donnernd ihre Schilde an.
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):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "The good person", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "L'homme bon", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 138
The good person
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch)
His is the power, the regiment of the stars,
He holds the world in his fist like a nut,
Laughter wreathes itself immortally about his face,
War is his being and triumph is his step.
And where he is and where he spreads his hands,
And where his cry thunders tyrannically downward
Everything that is unjust in all of creation crumbles,
And all things become God and [become] one.
Unconquerable are the tears of the good one,
Building material of the world and water of creation;
Where his good tears drop,
Every form consumes itself and awakens to a new consciousness of itself.
There is no wrath comparable with his.
He stands upon the pyre of his life,
And at his feet writhes, lost,
The devil, a trampled worm of fire.
And when he departs from this life, then at his side there remain
Two angels, whose heads touch the spheres,
And roar rejoicing under gold and fire,
And thunderously clap their shields.
Translator's note: I have arbitrarily chosen the masculine here, but if you think of this poem as being about a woman when you perform the song, then feel free to change the translation to the feminine.
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2014 by Sharon Krebs, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2014-10-27
Line count: 20
Word count: 163