Des Sängers Habe
Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: CAT DUT ENG FRE ITA
Schlagt mein ganzes Glück in Splitter,
Nehmt mir alle Habe gleich,
Lasset mir nur meine Zither,
Und ich bleibe froh und reich.
Wenn des Grames Wolken ziehen,
Haucht sie Trost in meine Brust,
Und aus ihrem Golde blühen
Alle Blumen meiner Lust.
Will die Liebe nicht gewähren,
Freundschaft brechen ihre Pflicht,
Kann ich beide stolz entbehren,
Aber meine Zither nicht.
Reißet meines Lebens Sehne,
Wird sie mir ein Kissen sein,
Lullen mich die süßen Töne
In den letzten Schlummer ein.
In den Grund des Tannenhaines
Senkt mich leise dann hinab;
Und statt eines Leichensteines
Stellt die Zither auf mein Grab,
Daß ich, wenn zum stillen Reigen,
Aus des Todes dunklem Bann,
Mitternachts die Geister steigen,
Ihre Saiten rühren kann.
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• F. Schubert View text with all available footnotes
Note: Schubert received Schlechta's poem in handwritten form. Schlechta's poem was posthumously printed in a substantially revised version in Ephemeren, see below.
Text Authorship:
Go to the general view
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor], Peter Rastl
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 120
The minstrel's possession
Language: English after the German (Deutsch)
Smash my entire happiness into pieces,
Take as well everything I own,
Only leave me my zither
And I shall remain blithe and rich.
When the clouds of sorrow pass over me,
It breathes comfort into my breast,
And from out of its gold
All the flowers of my joy bloom.
If love does not deign to look kindly upon me,
If friendship fails in its duty,
I can proudly do without either,
But not without my zither.
When the thread of my life is torn,
It shall be a pillow to me,
Its sweet sounds shall lull me
Into that final slumber.
In the depths of the fir-grove
Lower me gently down into the earth then;
And instead of a tombstone
Place the zither upon my grave,
So that, when at midnight the spirits
Rise from the dark spell of death
To their silent roundelay,
I can touch its strings.
View text with all available footnotes
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2017 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:
Go to the general view
This text was added to the website: 2017-02-02
Line count: 24
Word count: 152
