Herbstgedanken
Language: German (Deutsch)
Available translation(s): ENG
Nun hat sich Alles, was den Lenz durchstürmte,
Zu schöner, milder Ruhe abgeklärt,
Zum gold'nen Trunke ist der Saft geworden,
Der feurig in der Rebe einst gegährt.
Und wie er vor mir in dem Glase funkelt,
Kommt der Gedanke schattend über mich,
Daß Alles bald die große Nacht umdunkelt,
Und in der Todesahnung such' ich -- dich!
Der du mir Licht und Glanz des Tag's gewesen
Und dann verblichen, eh' der Abend kam,
Der du mein Blühen mit in's Grab genommen,
Lang, eh' der Herbst mit roher Faust es nahm.
Schläfst du, Geliebter? Sprengen die Posaunen
Des jüngsten Tages erst dein stilles Haus,
Schaust du schon jetzt aus sonnigen Gefilden
Nach deines Weibes Heimwegschritten aus?
Mir ist so oft, als glitte durch die Nächte
Dein heiliger, geliebter Schatten hin,
Und erst der Morgenstrahl auf meinem Kissen
Nimmt mir den Wahn, daß ich noch bei dir bin!
Confirmed with Anna Ritter, Gedichte, Neunte Auflage, Stuttgart und Berlin: J.G. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung Nachfolger, 1900, pages 54-55.
Authorship:
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Autumnal thoughts", copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2012-05-28
Line count: 20
Word count: 145
Autumnal thoughts
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch)
Now everything that surged through springtime
Has clarified to beautiful, mild repose,
The juice that once fermented fierily on the vine
Has become a golden drink.
And as it sparkles in the glass in front of me,
Like a shadow the thought comes over me,
[The thought] that everything shall soon be shrouded in dark night,
And in the prescience of death I seek -- you!
You who were light and radiance of the day for me
And then faded before the evening came,
You who took my blossoming with you into the grave,
Long before autumn took it with a brutal fist.
Are you sleeping, beloved? Although the trumpets of the last day
Shall be the first to burst your quiet abode,
Do you already from your sunny realm look out
For the steps of your wife that bring her home?
So often it seems to me as if your holy, beloved shade
Glides through the nights,
And only the beam of morning upon my pillow
Takes from me the illusion that I am still with you!
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2023 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.
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This text was added to the website: 2023-10-10
Line count: 20
Word count: 177