Upon the mountain | Upon the mountain, dearest love

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by Emil Taubert (1844 - 1895)

Translation © by Sharon Krebs

Auf dem Berge

Language: German (Deutsch)

Our translations: CAT ENG

Auf dem Berg, liebes Liebchen,
Auf dem Berge blüht die Lust:
Da umspielt uns blau der Himmel
Unsre morgenfrische Brust.

Hängt der Wald nicht voller Träume,
Und wo klingt ein Lied so rein?
Und wo sind so blau die Räume,
Und so warm der Sonnenschein?

Auf dem Berge, liebes Liebchen,
Blüht ein klein Vergissmeinnicht,
Und die Kräuter all reden leise:
Er verlässt dich nun und nimmer nicht.

Komm an's Herze mir, das treue,
Wir brauchen nicht Ring und Wort.
Auf dem Berg wohnt keine Reue,
Und kein Winter trägt die Liebe fort.

Text Authorship:

by Emil Taubert (1844 - 1895) [author's text not yet checked 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):

by (Karl Gottfried) Wilhelm Taubert (1811 - 1891), "Auf dem Berge", op. 177 no. 7, published 1871 [ voice and piano ], from Glück der Liebe. Acht Gedichte von Emil Taubert. Liedercyclus, no. 7, Berlin: C.A. Challier [sung text checked 1 time]

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

CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "A la muntanya", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Upon the mountain", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2013-06-23
Line count: 16
Word count: 92

Upon the mountain

Language: English after the German (Deutsch)

Upon the mountain, dearest love,
Upon the mountain joy blooms:
There the blue of the heavens plays about
Our breast fresh with [the dew of] morning.

Is the forest not full of dreams,
And where does a song ring out so purely?
And where are so blue the broad expanses,
And so warm the sunshine?

Upon the mountain, dearest love,
There blooms a little forget-me-not,
And the herbs all say quietly:
He will not desert you now or ever.

Come to my heart, the faithful one,
We need neither ring nor word.
Upon the mountain there is no regret,
And no winter carries love off.

Text Authorship:

Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2013 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 Emil Taubert (1844 - 1895)
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2013-06-23
Line count: 16
Word count: 105