Das Alter
Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: ENG FRE ITA
Hoch mit den Wolken geht der Vögel Reise,
Die Erde [schläfert]1, kaum noch Astern prangen,
Verstummt die Lieder, die so fröhlich klangen,
Und trüber Winter deckt die weiten Kreise.
Die Wanduhr pickt, im Zimmer singet leise
Waldvöglein noch, so du im Herbst gefangen.
Ein Bilderbuch scheint alles, was vergangen,
Du blätterst drin, geschützt vor Sturm und Eise.
So mild ist oft das Alter mir erschienen:
Wart nur, bald taut es von den Dächern wieder
Und über Nacht hat sich die Luft gewendet.
Ans Fenster klopft ein [Bot']2 mit frohen Mienen,
Du trittst erstaunt heraus -- und kehrst nicht wieder,
Denn endlich kommt der Lenz, der nimmer endet.
View original text (without footnotes)
1 Zillig: "schläft"
2 Pfitzner: "Bote"
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):
- by Hans Erich Pfitzner (1869 - 1949), "Das Alter", op. 41 no. 3 (1931), published 1932 [bass-baritone and piano], from Drei Sonette für Bassbariton und Klavier, no. 3, Leipzig, Peters [
text verified 1 time
]
- by Winfried (Petrus Ignatius) Zillig (1905 - 1963), "Das Alter" [alto and orchestra], from Sieben Sonette nach Gedichten von Joseph von Eichendorff, no. 7. [
text verified 1 time
]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , title 1: "Vecchiaia", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , title 1: "Old age", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , title 1: "Le vieillard", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Jakob Kellner
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 109
Vecchiaia
Language: Italian (Italiano) after the German (Deutsch)
In alto, fra le nubi, migrano gli uccelli,
riposa le terra, si affioca il firmamento,
tacciono ormai gli antichi canti e balli,
e tutto avvolge, d’un triste inverno, il manto.
La pendola ticchetta, e nella stanza piano
Un uccello, giunto in casa in autunno, leva il suo canto
E tutto il tuo passato trascorre nella mano,
che sfoglia un libro di immagini, al riparo dal vento.
Così dolce sovente mi appare la vecchiaia:
aspetta un poco, presto si scioglierà la neve
e con la notte si farà nuova l’aria.
E alla finestra qualcuno busserà lieve,
Tu allora, sorpreso, uscirai per non fare ritorno,
perché la primavera durerà in eterno.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2025 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (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: 2008-03-31
Line count: 14
Word count: 109
