by William Barnes (1801 - 1886)
Translation © by Geart van der Meer

Within the woodlands, flow'ry gladed
Language: English 
Our translations:  DUT FRI GER SPA
Within the woodlands, flow'ry gladed,
By the oak trees' mossy moot,
The shining grass blades, timber-shaded,
Now do quiver underfoot;
And birds do whistle overhead,
And water's bubbling in its bed;
And there, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves, that lately were a-springing,
Now do fade within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing,
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown-leaved fruits a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine overhead,
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Let other folk make money faster
In the air of dark-roomed towns;
I don't dread a peevish master,
Though no man may heed my frowns.
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   R. Vaughan Williams 

About the headline (FAQ)

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):

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

  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) (Geart van der Meer) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRI Frisian [singable] (Geart van der Meer) , copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (David Paley) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (José Miguel Llata) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: John Versmoren

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 143

It mossich bosk is breed bepade
Language: Frisian  after the English 
It mossich bosk is breed bepade,
En blombekrânse dêr't men giet;
It glânzich gers, sa sacht oerskade,
Trillet dêr't myn foet mij liedt;
Dêr't fûgelsang klinkt op syn lûdst,
It wetter yn it beekje brûst, 
Leunt skean oan bosk- en heideseam
Sa swier en leech myn appelbeam.
 
As tûken swier mei blêd behongen 
Wylje oan it beammeguod,
It bûnte fûgelt staakt syn sjongen,
Want har hege koar is fuort;
As reade fruchten kleurje blij
Tsjin blauwe loft heech boppe mij,
Leunt skean oan bosk- en heideseam,
Fan frucht sa swier, myn appelbeam.

Lit oaren mar mear jild fertsjinje,
Yn de stêd syn dompichheid,
Noartske bazen wol 'k net tsjinje,
Jou mij mar bliermoedichheid;
Ik bin frij te gean en stean,
Om fuort, of oars nei hûs te gean,
Nei dêr't oan bosk- en heideseam
Leech leunt myn leave appelbeam.

About the headline (FAQ)

Translation of "Linden Lea" = "De appelbeam"

Text Authorship:

  • Singable translation from English to Frisian copyright © 2013 by Geart van der Meer, (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: 

Based on:

 

This text was added to the website: 2013-10-18
Line count: 24
Word count: 139