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Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning as the moon would fathom the sea. I have bared my life before your eyes from end to end, with nothing hidden or held back. That is why you know me not. If it were only a gem I could break it into a hundred pieces and string them into a chain to put on your neck. If it were only a flower, round and small and sweet, I could pluck it from its stem to set it in your hair. But it is a heart, my beloved. Where are its shores and its bottom? You know not the limits of this kingdom, still you are its queen. If it were only a moment of pleasure it would flower in an easy smile, and you could see it and read it in a moment. If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears, reflecting its inmost secret without a word. But it is love, my beloved. Its pleasure and pain are boundless, and endless its wants and wealth. It is as near to you as your life, but you can never wholly know it.
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Text Authorship:
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in The Gardener, no. 28, first published 1913 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941) [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 Raymond Hanson (1913 - 1976), "Your questioning eyes are sad", op. 39 no. 5 (1959/60) [ tenor and piano ], from Seven songs from The Gardener , no. 5 [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Deine fragenden Augen sind traurig", copyright © 2015, (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: 25
Word count: 198
Deine fragenden Augen sind traurig: Sie suchen zu erkennen, was ich bin, so, wie der Mond das Meer ergründet. Vor deinen Augen hab ich dir mein ganzes Leben offenbart, hab nichts versteckt oder zurückgehalten. Aus diesem Grund erkennst du mich nicht. Wäre es nur ein Edelstein, könnt ich in hundert Stücke ihn zerbrechen, und sie auf eine Kette reihen, die um den Hals du trägst. Wär es nur eine Blüte, rund und klein und süßen Dufts, könnt ich sie pflücken und ins Haar dir stecken. Aber es ist ein Herz, meine Liebe. Wo sind seine Küsten, wo sein Grund? Die Grenzen dieses Königreichs erkennst du nicht, bist dennoch seine Königin. Wäre es nur ein Augenblick der Freude, würd’ es in einem unbeschwerten Lächeln blühen, das du sogleich erkennst und deutest. Und wäre es nur Schmerz, löste es sich auf in wasserklaren Tränen, die sein innerstes Geheimnis wortlos wiedergäben. Aber, meine Liebe, es ist Liebe. Ihre Freuden und ihr Schmerz sind grenzenlos, endlos ihr Verlangen, ihre Fülle. Sie ist dir nahe wie dein eig’nes Leben, doch kannst du niemals gänzlich sie erkennen.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2015 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 The Gardener, no. 28, first published 1913
Based on:
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941) [text unavailable]
This text was added to the website: 2015-10-27
Line count: 25
Word count: 181