by Sárvár-Felsővidéki gróf Széchényi Lajos (1781 - 1855)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

Die abgeblühte Linde
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Our translations:  CAT DUT ENG FRE
Wirst du halten, was du schwurst,
Wenn mir die Zeit die Locken bleicht?
Wie du über Berge fuhrst,
Eilt das Wiedersehn nicht leicht.

Änd'rung ist das Kind der Zeit,
Womit Trennung uns bedroht,
Und was die Zukunft beut,
Ist ein blässer's Lebensroth.

Sieh, die Linde blühet noch,
Als du heute von ihr gehst;
Wirst sie wieder finden, doch
Ihre Blüthen stiehlt der West.

Einsam steht sie dann, vorbei
Geht man kalt, bemerkt sie kaum.
Nur der Gärtner bleibt ihr treu,
Denn er liebt in ihr den Baum.

Note: No published source of this poem is known. Most likely Schubert received the text in manuscript form from Széchényi, the dedicatee of Schubert's op. 7.


Text 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) , "El til•ler desflorit", copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "De uitgebloeide linde", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "The faded linden", copyright ©
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Le tilleul fané", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 87

The faded linden
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Will you fulfill what you have sworn,
When time has bleached my locks?
As you've gone away over the mountains,
Hurrying to a reunion is not easy.

Change is the child of time,
With which parting threatens us,
And what the future holds
Is only a pale blush of life.

See, the linden blooms yet,
As you go from it;
You will see it again, although
Its blossoms will be stolen by the west wind.

Alone will it stand then; and past it
Will go indifferent people, hardly noticing it.
Only the gardener will remain true,
For he loves the tree for itself.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust

    Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:

    Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
    from the LiederNet Archive

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


Based on:

 

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 103