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Wie dort, gewiegt von Westen, Des Mohnes Blüte glänzt! Die Blume, die am besten Des Traumgotts Schläfe kränzt; Bald purpurhell, als spiele Der Abendröte Schein, Bald weiß und bleich, als fiele Des Mondes Schimmer ein. Zur Warnung hört ich sagen, Daß, der im Mohne schlief, Hinunter ward getragen In Träume schwer und tief; Dem Wachen selbst geblieben Sei irren Wahnes Spur, Die Nahen und die Lieben Halt' er für Schemen nur. In meiner Tage Morgen, Da lag auch ich einmal, Von Blumen ganz verborgen, In einem schönen Tal. Sie dufteten so milde! Da ward, ich fühlt es kaum, Das Leben mir zum Bilde, Das Wirkliche zum Traum. Seitdem ist mir beständig, Als wär es nur so recht, Mein Bild der Welt lebendig, Mein Traum nur wahr und echt; Die Schatten, die ich sehe, Sie sind wie Sterne klar. O Mohn der Dichtung! wehe Ums Haupt mir immerdar!
Text Authorship:
- by Johann Ludwig Uhland (1787 - 1862), "Der Mohn", first published 1829 [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 Leopold Carl Wolf (1859 - 1932), "Der Mohn", op. 9 (Sechs Lieder im Volkston für 1 tiefere Stimme mit Pianoforte) no. 6, published 1885 [ low voice and piano ], Leipzig, Rieter-Biedermann [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Poppies", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2013-09-10
Line count: 32
Word count: 147
As there, swaying in the westwind, The poppy flower glows! The flower that is most appropriate To garland the brow of the god of dreams; Now crimson bright, as if to mirror The play of the sunset's glow, Now white and pale, as if The shimmer of the moon were falling upon it. I heard a warning uttered That he who slept among poppies Was carried down into Dreams weighty and deep; Even for the awakened one there remained The trace of mad delusion, His near ones and his dear ones He considered to be only spectres. In the days of my youth, I too once lay, Completely concealed by flowers, In a beautiful valley. Their scent was so gentle! Then (I hardly felt it happen) Life became an illusion for me, Reality a dream. Since then it consistently seems to me As if it were right only thus, My illusion of the world [being] vibrant, My dream alone [being] true and real; The shadows that I see Are as clear as the stars. Oh poppy of poetry, waft About my brow forever!
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.
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Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Johann Ludwig Uhland (1787 - 1862), "Der Mohn", first published 1829
This text was added to the website: 2013-11-12
Line count: 32
Word count: 183