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Was treibt mich jeden Morgen So tief in's Holz hinein? Was frommt mir, mich zu bergen Im unbelauschten Hain? Es blüht auf allen Fluren Blümlein Vergiß mein nicht, Es schaut vom heitern Himmel Herab in blauem Licht. Und soll ich's niedertreten, Bebt mir der Fuß zurück, Es fleht aus jedem Kelche Ein wohlbekannter Blick. Weißt du, in welchem Garten Blümlein Vergiß mein steht? Das Blümlein muß ich suchen, Wie auch die Straße geht. 'S ist nicht für Mädchenbusen, So schön sieht es nicht aus: Schwarz, schwarz ist seine Farbe, Es paßt in keinen Strauß. Hat keine grüne Blätter, Hat keinen Blüthenduft, Es windet sich am Boden In nächtig dumpfer Luft. Wächst auch an einem Ufer, Doch unten fließt kein Bach, Und willst das Blümlein pflücken, Dich zieht der Abgrund nach. Das ist der rechte Garten, Ein schwarzer, schwarzer Flor: Darauf magst du dich betten - Schleuß zu das Gartenthor!
Confirmed with Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten. Herausgegeben von Wilhelm Müller. Erstes Bändchen. Zweite Auflage. Deßau 1826. Bei Christian Georg Ackermann, pages 39-40; and with Sieben und siebzig Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten. Herausgegeben von Wilhelm Müller. Dessau, 1821. Bei Christian Georg Ackermann, pages 41-42.
Text Authorship:
- by Wilhelm Müller (1794 - 1827), "Blümlein Vergißmein", appears in Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 21, first published 1821 [author's text checked 2 times 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):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Malcolm Wren) , "Little forget-me flower", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2009-02-10
Line count: 32
Word count: 149
What is it every morning that is driving me So deep into the wood? What is the point of me hiding In this secluded grove? Blossoming everywhere on the ground Is a tiny forget-me-not flower, From a clear sky it is looking Down in blue light. And if I am about to step on one My foot bounces back, Out of each calyx comes an entreaty - A well-known glance. Do you know in which garden You can find a forget-me flower? I have to look for that flower Whereever the search might lead. It isn't for a girl's breast, It doesn't look beautiful enough for that: Black, black is its colour, It isn't suitable for any garland. It doesn't have any green leaves, It doesn't have any fragrance of blossom, It entwines itself on the ground In the gloomy night air. It also grows on a bank But there is no little river flowing beneath it, And if you want to pick that little flower You will be pulled into the abyss. That is the right garden, A black, black flower bed: You could settle down on that - Lock the garden gate!
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2019 by Malcolm Wren, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Wilhelm Müller (1794 - 1827), "Blümlein Vergißmein", appears in Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 21, first published 1821
This text was added to the website: 2019-10-25
Line count: 32
Word count: 192