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Wer sein holdes Lieb verloren, weil er Liebe nicht versteht, besser wär' er nie geboren. Ich verlor sie dort im Garten, da sie Rosen brach und Blüten. Hell auf ihren Wangen glühten Scham und Lust in holder Zier. Und von Liebe sprach sie mir; doch ich größter aller Toren wußte keine Antwort ihr wär' ich nimmermehr geboren. Ich verlor sie dort im Garten, da sie sprach von Liebesplagen, denn ich wagte nicht zu sagen, wie ich ganz ihr eigen bin. In die Blumen sank sie hin; doch ich größter aller Toren zog auch davon nicht Gewinn, wär' ich nimmermehr geboren!
Text Authorship:
- by Emanuel Geibel (1815 - 1884), appears in Spanisches Liederbuch, in 2. Weltliche Lieder, no. 88 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in Spanish (Español) by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist , "Quien gentil senora pierde"
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Hugo Wolf (1860 - 1903), "Wer sein holdes Lieb verloren", 1889-90, from Spanisches Liederbuch: Weltliche Lieder, no. 7
Score: IMSLP [external link] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Qui ha perdut la seva dolça estimada", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Michael P Rosewall) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Celui qui a perdu son doux amour", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2003-11-20
Line count: 19
Word count: 100
For him, who lost his sweet love Because he did not understand Love, It would be better had he never been born. I lost her there in the garden, Where she picked roses and blossoms. Brightly her cheeks glowed Graced sweetly with modesty and delight. And she spoke to me of love; Yet, at my greatest of all opportunities I had no answer for her Would that I had never been born! I lost her there in the garden, Where she spoke of the torment of love, Because I dared say nothing, Of how I was entirely her own. Among the flowers, she sank down; There, at my greatest of all opportunities I did not claim the victory. Would that I had never been born!
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Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2011 by Michael P Rosewall, (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 Emanuel Geibel (1815 - 1884), appears in Spanisches Liederbuch, in 2. Weltliche Lieder, no. 88
Based on:
- a text in Spanish (Español) by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist , "Quien gentil senora pierde"
This text was added to the website: 2011-07-06
Line count: 19
Word count: 125