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Als der Abend übers Schlachtfeld wehte Waren die Feinde geschlagen. Klingend die Telegrafendrähte Haben die Kunde hinausgetragen. Da schwoll am einen Ende der Welt Ein Heulen, das am Himmelsgewölbe zerschellt' Ein Schrei, der aus rasenden Mündern quoll Und wahnsinnstrunken zum Himmel schwoll. Tausend Lippen wurden vom Fluchen blaß Tausend Hände ballten sich wild im Haß. Und am andern Ende der Welt Ein Jauchzen am Himmelsgewölbe zerschellt' Ein Jubeln, ein Toben, ein Rasen der Lust Ein freies Aufatmen und Recken der Brust. Tausend Lippen wühlten im alten Gebet Tausend Hände falteten fromm sich und stet. In der Nacht noch spät Sangen die Telegrafendräht' Von den Toten, die auf dem Schlachtfeld geblieben - - Siehe, da ward es still bei Freunden und Feinden. Nur die Mütter weinten Hüben - und drüben.
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Text Authorship:
- by Bertolt Brecht (1898 - 1956), "Moderne Legende" [author's text not yet checked 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 (Knut W. Barde) , "Modern Legend", copyright © 2006, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Knut W. Barde
This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 22
Word count: 126
When evening drifted over the battlefield the enemies were defeated. Ringing telegraph wires broadcast the news. There arose at one end of the world a howling, that broke at the celestial vault a scream that from raging mouths emerged and madness-filled the sky did climb. A thousand lips turned pale from cursing a thousand hands clenched wildly with hate. And at the other end of the world an exultation broke at the celestial vault a jubilation, a roaring, a raging of joy a sigh of relief and a filling of the breast. A thousand lips wallowed in old prayers a thousand hands folded piously and steadily. In the night, until late the telegraph wires sang of the dead, who remained on the battle field... Look, a quiet settled upon friend and foe. only the mothers cried here - and there.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Knut W. Barde, (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 Bertolt Brecht (1898 - 1956), "Moderne Legende"
This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 22
Word count: 139