Räthsel
Language: German (Deutsch) after the English
Our translations: CAT DUT ENG FRE
Es flüstert's der Himmel, es murrt es die Hölle,
Nur schwach klingt's nach in des Echo's Welle,
Und kommt es zur Fluth, so wird es stumm,
Auf den Höhen, da hörst du sein zwiefach Gesumm.
Das Schlachtengewühl liebt's, fliehet den Frieden,
Es ist nicht Männern noch Frauen beschieden,
Doch jeglichem Thier, nur mußt du's seciren.
Nicht ist's in der Poesie zu erspüren,
Die Wissenschaft hat es, vor allen sie,
Die Gottesgelahrtheit und Philosophie.
Bei den Helden führt es den Vorsitz immer,
Doch mangelt's den Schwachen auch innerlich nimmer,
Es findet sich richtig in jedem Haus,
Denn ließe man's fehlen, so wär' es aus.
In Griechenland klein, an der Tiber sic Borden
Ist's größer, am größten in Deutschland geworden.
Im Schatten birgt's sich's, im Blümchen auch;
Du hauchst es täglich, es ist nur ein Hauch3.
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• R. Schumann View text with all available footnotes
Confirmed with Taschenbibliothek der ausländischen Klassiker, in neuen Verdeutschungen, No. 202. Byron’s Poesien, Sieben und zwanzigstes Bändchen, übersetzt von Karl Ludwig Kannegießer, Zwickau: im Verlage der Gebrüder Schumann, 1827, pages 194-195. The original poem was misattributed to Byron in the first publication of this translation.
Note: the answer to the riddle is the letter 'h'. Several words in this poem are now spelled without an 'h', such as "Flut" and "Tier", but the riddle would lose meaning if they were modernized.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Go to the general view
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor]This text was added to the website: 2003-11-19
Line count: 18
Word count: 139
Language: English after the German (Deutsch)
Heaven whispers it, it is grumbled by hell,
It sounds only weakly in echo’s wave,
And if it comes to a flood, it becomes mute,
Upon the heights you hear its two-fold humming.
It loves the turmoil of battle, flees peace,
It is given neither to men nor women,
But to every animal, only you have to dissect it;
No trace of it can be found in poetry,
But scholarly disciplines have it, above all others
Theology and philosophy.
It is always at the head when it comes to heroes,
But the wretched also never lack it internally,
It is well and truly found in every house,
For if it were omitted, it would be over.
It is small in Greece, on the banks of the Tiber
It is bigger, and it has become the biggest in Germany.
It hides itself in the shadow, in the little flower too,
You breathe it daily, it is only a breath.
View text with all available footnotes
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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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Based on:
Based on:
Go to the general view
This text was added to the website: 2016-01-13
Line count: 18
Word count: 160
