Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.
It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.
To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net
If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.
Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.
In den Talen der Provence Ist der Minnesang entsprossen, Kind des Frühlings und der Minne, Holder, inniger Genossen. Blütenglanz und süße Stimme Konnt' an ihm den Vater zeigen, Herzensglut und tiefes Schmachten War ihm von der Mutter eigen. Selige [Provencer Tale]1, Üppig blühend wart ihr immer, Aber eure reichste Blüte [War]2 des Minneliedes Schimmer. Jene tapfern, schmucken Ritter, Welch ein edler Sängerorden! Jene hochbeglückte Damen, Wie sie schön gefeiert worden! Vielgeehrt im Sängerchore War Rudello's werter Name, Vielgepriesen, vielbeneidet Die von ihm besungene Dame. Aber niemand mocht' erkunden, Wie sie hieße, wo sie lebte, Die so herrlich, überirdisch In Rudello's Liedern schwebte; Denn nur in geheimen Nächten Nahte sie dem Sänger leise, Selbst den Boden nie berührend, Spurlos, schwank, in Traumesweise. Wollt' er sie mit Armen fassen, Schwand sie in den Wolken wieder, Und aus Seufzen und aus Tränen Wurden dann ihm süße Lieder. Schiffer, Pilger, Kreuzesritter Brachten dazumal die Mähre, Daß von Tripolis die Gräfin Aller Frauen Krone wäre; Und so oft Rudello es hörte, Fühlt' er sich's im Busen schlagen, Und es trieb ihn nach dem Strande, Wo die Schiffe fertig lagen. Meer, unsichres, vielbewegtes, Ohne Grund und ohne Schranken! Wohl auf deiner regen Wüste Mag die irre Sehnsucht schwanken. Fern von Tripolis verschlagen, Irrt die Barke mit dem Sänger; Äußrem Sturm und innrem Drängen Widersteht Rudell nicht länger. Schwer erkrankt liegt er nieder, Aber ostwärts schaut er immer, Bis sich hebt am letzten Rand Ein Palast im Morgenschimmer. Und der Himmel hat Erbarmen Mit des kranken Sängers Flehen, In den Port von Tripolis Fliegt das Schiff mit günst'gem Wehen. Kaum vernimmt die schöne Gräfin, Daß so edler Gast gekommen, Der allein um ihretwillen Über's weite Meer geschwommen: Alsobald mit ihren Frauen Steigt sie nieder, unerbeten, Als Rudello, schwanken Ganges, Eben das Gestad' betreten. Schon will sie die Hand ihm reichen, Doch ihm dünkt, der Boden schwinde; In des Führers Arme sinkt er, Haucht sein Leben in die Winde. Ihren Sänger ehrt die Herrin Durch ein prächtiges Begräbnis, Und ein Grabmal von Porphyr Lehrt sein trauriges Verhängnis. Seine Lieder läßt sie schreiben Allesamt mit goldnen Lettern; Köstlich ausgezierte Decken Gibt sie diesen teuren Blättern; Lies't darin so manche Stunde, Ach! und oft mit heißen Tränen, Bis auch sie ergriffen ist Von dem unnennbaren Sehnen. Von des Hofes lust'gem Glanz, Aus der Freunde Kreis geschieden, Suchet sie in Klostermauern Ihrer armen Seele Frieden.
R. Schumann sets stanzas 1-4
Note: in Schumann's setting, this is sung by the character Jüngling
1 Schumann: "Provencetale"2 Schumann: "Ist"
Authorship:
- by Johann Ludwig Uhland (1787 - 1862), "Rudello", written 1812, appears in Sängerliebe, no. 1 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
This text (or a part of it) is used in a work
- by Robert Schumann (1810 - 1856), "Provençalisches Lied", op. posth. 139 no. 4 (1852), published 1885 [ tenor and orchestra ], from Des Sängers Fluch : Ballade nach Ludwig Uhland bearbeitet von Richard Pohl für Solostimmen, Chor und Orchester, no. 4, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2015-01-28
Line count: 84
Word count: 394
In the valleys of Provence The courtly love song arose, Child of springtime and of love, Lovely, fervent companions. The radiance of blossoms and sweet voices Reminds one of its father, The ardour of the heart and deep pining Came to it from its mother. Blessed valleys of Provence, You were ever lushly blooming, But your richest blossom [Was]1 the shimmer of the courtly love song. Those valiant, trim knights, What a noble guild of minstrels! Those greatly delighted ladies, How beautifully they were celebrated! Highly honoured in the choir of minstrels Was Rudello’s worthy name, Praised much, envied much That woman whom he lauded in song. But no one was able to ascertain What she was called, where she lived, She who so gloriously, transcendently Hovered in Rudello’s songs; For only in secret nights Did she quietly approach the singer, Not ever even touching the ground, Traceless, swaying, as in a dream. If he wished to catch her in his arms, She vanished once more into the clouds, And out of sighing and out of tears Sweet songs were born to him. Mariners, pilgrims, crusaders At that time brought the tidings That the Duchess of Tripoli Was the queen of all women; And whenever Rudello heard it, He felt a pulsing within his breast, And he felt himself compelled to go to the shore Where the ships lay ready. Ocean, precarious, turbulent, Bottomless and limitless! Upon your agitated desert Mad longing might well range. Far off course from Tripoli The barque strays about with the minstrel; Rudello can no longer withstand The outer tempests and the inner urging. Gravely ill he lies stricken, But he constantly gazes eastward, Until at the final horizon there arises A palace in the shimmer of morning. And Heaven takes mercy On the ailing minstrel’s pleading; Into the Port of Tripoli The ship flies, driven by favourable winds. Barely has the beautiful Duchess heard That such a noble guest has arrived, A guest who for her sake alone Has travelled over the wide sea: Immediately with her ladies She descends to the shore, unasked, Just as Rudello, with tottering gait, Steps ashore. Already she extends her hand to him, But he feels as if the ground has disappeared from under his feet; He sinks into the captain’s arms, And breathes his last into the winds. The Lady honours her minstrel With a stately burial, And a monument of porphyry Tells of his tragic fate. His songs she has scribed -- All of them -- in gold letters; Magnificently decorated covers She places upon these precious leaves; Many an hour she spends reading the book, Alas! and oft with burning tears, Until she too has been seized By the nameless yearning. Departed from the gay brightness of the court, From her circle of friends, In the stone walls of a convent She seeks peace for her poor soul.
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)
Translated titles:
"Rudello" = "Rudello"
"Provençalisches Lied" = "Song of Provence"
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2015 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:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Johann Ludwig Uhland (1787 - 1862), "Rudello", written 1812, appears in Sängerliebe, no. 1
This text was added to the website: 2015-09-09
Line count: 84
Word count: 481