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The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen asleep wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him - forbid him not. If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse me, I pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the clamorous choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of morning light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden to my door. Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream emerging from darkness of sleep. Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to him.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 47, first published 1912 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 47 [text unavailable]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Jonathan Harvey (1939 - 2012), "First song", 1985 [ soprano and chamber ensemble ], from Song Offerings, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Margaret Lucy Wilkins (b. 1939), "Sleep, precious sleep", op. 35 no. 3 (1981) [ SATB quartet and SATB chorus a cappella ], from Six Song Offerings, 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: 2010-11-03
Line count: 25
Word count: 182
Vorüber fast die Nacht, vergeblich war mein Warten. Ich bange, dass er plötzlich tritt durchs Tor, des Morgens, wenn ermattet ich in tiefen Schlaf gesunken. O Freunde, haltet ihm die Wege frei - und wehrt ihm nicht. Weckt seiner Schritte Klang mich nicht, dann lasst mich schlafen, drum bitt ich. Ich will auch nicht am lauten Vogelsang erwachen, noch von des Windes Ungestüm beim Fest des Morgenlichts. Lasst ungestört mich schlafen, selbst wenn mein Herr tritt plötzlich an mein Tor. Ach Schlaf, mein teurer Schlaf, der s e i n e r Hände harret, um zu enden dann. Ach meine Augen, die ihr euch nur öffnet seines Lächelns Licht, wenn er sich zeigt gleich einem Traum, der aufsteigt aus des Schlafes Schwärze. Lasst ihn erscheinen mir als allen Lichtes erstes Licht, als erste Allgestalt. Zu schauen ihn, lässt meine Seele beim Erwachen sogleich vor Wonne schauern. Und lasst das Fassen meiner selbst zugleich das Fassen seiner sein.
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), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 47, first published 1912
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 47 [text unavailable]
This text was added to the website: 2014-06-11
Line count: 25
Word count: 156