Dieser Vormittag im Herbst ist matt vom Übermaß an Licht

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by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941)

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann

This autumn morning

Language: English

Our translations: GER

This autumn morning is tired with excess of light, 
and if your songs grow fitful and languid 
give me your flute awhile.

I shall but play with it as the whim takes me, -- 
now take it on my lap, now touch it with my lips, 
now keep it by my side on the grass.

But in the solemn evening stillness I shall gather flowers, 
to deck it with wreaths, I shall fill it with fragrance; 
I shall worship it with the lighted lamp.

Then at night I shall come to you and give you back your flute.

You will play on it the music of midnight 
when the lonely crescent moon wanders among the stars.

Text Authorship:

by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in Fruit-Gathering, no. 22 [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 Margaret Carter Metcalf (d. 1957), "This autumn morning", 1921 [ high voice and piano ], from Four Poems, no. 3 [sung text not yet checked]

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

GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2010-11-05
Line count: 12
Word count: 115

Dieser Vormittag im Herbst ist matt vom...

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

Dieser Vormittag im Herbst ist matt vom Übermaß an Licht,
und falls sie launisch und gelangweilt werden, deine Lieder,
dann gib mir ein Weile deine Flöte.

Ich werd’ auf ihr nur ganz nach Lust und Laune spielen, —
leg sie mal in den Schoß, führ sie mal an den Mund,
hüt sie an meiner Seite dort im Grünen.

Doch in des Abends feierlicher Stille werd’ ich wohl Blumen brechen,
und sie mit Blütenkränzen schmücken, mit ihrem Wohlgeruch erfüllen;
und sie verehren mit der Lampe Licht.

Des Nachts komm ich zu dir und geb' dir deine Flöte wieder.

Und wenn der Sichelmond einsam der Sterne Flur durchstreift,
wirst du Musik der Mitternacht auf deiner Flöte spielen.

About the headline (FAQ)

Text Authorship:

Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2014 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 Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in Fruit-Gathering, no. 22
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2014-03-12
Line count: 12
Word count: 115