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Blume duftet im Tal, Ferne Blume der Kindheit, Die nur selten dem Träumer Ihre verborgenen Kelche öffnet Und das Innre, Abbild der Sonne, zeigt. Auf den blauen Gebirgen Wandelt die blinde Nacht, Überm Schoß das dunkle Gewand gerafft, Streut sie ziellos und lächelnd Ihre Gaben, die Träume, aus. Unten lagern, vom Tag verbrannt, Schlafende Menschen; Ihre Augen sind voller Traum, Seufzend wenden viele das Antlitz Hin nach der Blume der Kindheit, Deren Duft sie zärtlich ins Dunkel lockt Und dem väterlich strengen Ruf des Tages tröstlich entfremdet. Rast des Ermüdeten ist’s, In der Mutter Umarmung zurückzufliehn, Die mit lässigen Händen Über das Haar dem Träumenden streicht. Kinder sind wir, rasch macht die Sonne uns müd, Die uns doch Ziel und heilige Zukunft ist, Und aufs neue an jedem Abend Fallen wir klein in der Mutter Schoß, Lallen Namen der Kindheit, Tasten den Weg zu den Quellen zurück. Auch der einsame Sucher, Der den Flug zur Sonne sich vorgesetzt, Taumelt, auch er, um die Mitternacht Rückwärts seiner fernen Herkunft entgegen. Und der Schläfer, wenn ihn ein Angsttraum weckt, Ahnt im Dunkeln mit irrer Seele Zögernde Wahrheit: Jeder Lauf, ob zur Sonne oder zur Nacht, Führt zum Tode, führt zu neuer Geburt, Deren Schmerzen die Seele scheut. Aber alle gehen den Weg, Alle sterben, alle werden geboren, Denn die ewige Mutter Gibt sie ewig dem Tag zurück.
W. Aeschbacher sets lines 1-22, 36-42
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada and the U.S., but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.
Confirmed with Hermann Hesse, Sämtliche Werke, herausgegeben von Volker Michels, Band 10 Die Gedichte, bearbeitet von Peter Huber, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 2002, pages 240-241.
Text Authorship:
- by Hermann Hesse (1877 - 1962), "Die Nacht", written 1917, first published 1917 [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 Walther Aeschbacher (1901 - 1969), "Die Nacht", published 1953, lines 1-22,36-42 [ soprano, alto, four-part women's chorus, and strings ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "La nit", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Night", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "La nuit", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-30
Line count: 42
Word count: 225
A flower perfumes the valley, The distant flower of childhood, Which only rarely opens Its hidden calyx to the dreamer, And shows its interior, image of the sun. Upon the blue mountains The blind night wanders, With her dark garment snatched up over her lap, She aimlessly and smilingly scatters Her gifts -- the dreams. Below lie, burned by the day, Sleeping people; Their eyes are full of dreams, Sighing, many of them turn their faces Toward the flower of childhood, Whose scent delicately entices them into the darkness And comfortingly estranges them From the patriarchal, stern call of the day. It is the rest of the weary To flee back to the embraces of one’s mother, Who with idle hands Strokes the hair of the dreamer. We are children, the sun quickly tires us, [The sun] that is nevertheless our goal and sacred future, And every evening anew We little ones fall into our mother’s lap, We prattle names from our childhood, We fumble our way back to the well-springs. The solitary searcher, too, Who has determined upon the flight to the sun, Around midnight he, too, staggers Back towards his distant origins. And the sleeper, when awakened by a dream of fear, Perceives in the dark with a confused soul Hesitant truth: Every course, whether to the sun or to the night, Leads to death, leads to new birth, The pains of which the soul tries to evade. But all walk that pathway, All die, all are born, For the eternal mother Eternally gives them back to the day.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2014 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 Hermann Hesse (1877 - 1962), "Die Nacht", written 1917, first published 1917
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-30
Line count: 42
Word count: 260