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Der Schalk

Language: German (Deutsch)

Läuten kaum die Maienglocken,
Leise durch den lauen Wind,
Hebt ein Knabe froh erschrocken,
Aus dem Grase sich geschwind.
Schüttelt in den Blütenflocken,
Seine feinen blonden Locken,
Schelmisch sinnend wie ein Kind.

Und nun wehen Lerchenlieder
Und es schlägt die Nachtigall,
Rauschend von den Bergen nieder
Kommt der kühle Wasserfall.
Rings im Walde bunt Gefieder:
Frühling, Frühling ist es wieder
Und ein Jauchzen überall.

Und den Knaben hört man schwirren,
Goldne Fäden, zart und lind,
Durch die Lüfte künstlich wirren,
Und ein süsser Krieg beginnt:
Suchen, fliehen, schmachtend irren,
Bis sich Alle hold verwirren.
O beglücktes Labyrinth!


Translation(s): FRE

List of language codes

Confirmed with Joseph Freiherrn von Eichendorff, Gedichte, Berlin, Verlag von M. Simion, 1841, page 219.


Submitted by Pierre Mathé

Authorship


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Set in a modified version by Robert Franz, Fanny Mendelssohn-Hensel, August Reuss, Otto Dresel, Ernst Frank, Heinrich Zöllner, Otto Dorn, J. H. W. Werner, Carl Adolf Lorenz, Dr..

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , title 1: "Le fripon", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website: 2015-03-06.
Last modified: 2015-03-07 00:11:15
Line count: 21
Word count: 97

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Le fripon

Language: French (Français) after the German (Deutsch)

C'est à peine si les cloches du muguet tintent
Doucement dans le vent tiède,
Qu'un joyeux garçon effarouché
Se lève d'un coup de l'herbe.
Il secoue dans les chatons
Ses belles boucles blondes
Avec un l'air malicieux d'un enfant.

Et maintenant on entend le chant des alouettes
Et les trilles du rossignol,
Des montagnes descend à nouveau
Le grondement des fraîches cascades.
Il y a partout dans la forêt des plumages multicolores
Le printemps, c'est à nouveau le printemps
Et partout l'allégresse.

Et l'on entend le garçon siffler,
Des fils d'or, délicats et doux
Se mêlent avec art dans le vent,
Et une douce guerre commence.
Ils cherchent, volent, errent avec langueur,
Jusqu'à ce que tous s'entremêlent gracieusement.
Ô bienheureux labyrinthe !


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Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to French (Français) copyright © 2015 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., please ask the copyright-holder(s) directly.

    Pierre Mathé. Contact:
    <pmathe (AT) neuf (DOT) fr>

    If the copyright-holder(s) are unreachable for three business days, please write to:
    licenses (AT) lieder (DOT) net
    (licenses at lieder dot net)




Based on

 

Text added to the website: 2015-03-06.
Last modified: 2015-03-07 00:13:32
Line count: 21
Word count: 122