Mary Bayfield | Es ist die Abendstund'

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by John Clare (1793 - 1864)

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann

It is the evening hour

Language: English

Our translations: GER

It is the evening hour,
How silent all doth lie,
The horned moon he shows his face
In the river with the sky.
Just by the path on which we pass,
The flaggy lake lies still as glass.

Spirit of her I love,
Whispering to me,
Stories of sweet visions, as I rove,
Here stop, and crop with me
Sweet flowers that in the still hour grew,
We'll take them home, nor shake off the bright dew.

Mary, or sweet spirit of thee,
As the bright sun shines tomorrow.
Thy dark eyes these flowers shall see,
Gathered by me in sorrow.
In the still hour when my mind was free
Walk alone - yet wish I walked with thee.

About the headline (FAQ)

Published subsequently under many titles.

Text Authorship:

by John Clare (1793 - 1864), "Mary Bayfield", appears in John Clare: Poems, first published 1920 [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):

by Harold Ronald Clark (b. 1924), "It is the evening hour", 1974, first performed 1975 [ SSA chorus and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
by Shena Eleanor Fraser (1910 - 1993), "It is the evening hour", published 1952 [ SA chorus and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
by Leslie Walters (1902 - 1998), "The lost one", 1974, first performed 1975 [ baritone or tenor and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]

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

GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Mary Bayfield", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-01-18
Line count: 18
Word count: 118

Mary Bayfield

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

Es ist die Abendstund',
wie stille alles liegt.
Aus nächt'gem Strome blickt ein Mond,
der sich zur Sichel biegt.
An unserm Pfad, den ich begeh
liegt still wie Glas der müde See.

Wie lieb ich ihren Geist,
ganz leis erzählt er mir
Truggeschichten, süße, da ich geh,
hier steh, und pflücke mir
Blümlein, die sprossten in der Nacht,
für uns zuhaus, den Tau auf ihnen acht.

Mary, dein Geist mag vor mir stehn;
wenn hell die Sonn scheint morgen,
werden deine dunklen Augen Blümlein sehn,
die ich gepflückt in Sorgen,
in stiller Stund, als frei der Geist ward mir,
alleine geh -- doch wünsch', ich ging mit dir.

Text Authorship:

Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2013 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann. Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net

Based on:

a text in English by John Clare (1793 - 1864), "Mary Bayfield", appears in John Clare: Poems, first published 1920
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2013-06-26
Line count: 18
Word count: 107