Two songs , opus 49

by Henry Kimball Hadley (1871 - 1937)

1. In Gedanken  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: German (Deutsch) 
Wenn ich auf dem Lager liege
In Nacht [und Kissen]1 gehüllt,
So schwebt mir vor ein süßes,
Anmutig liebes Bild!

Wenn mir der stille Schlummer
Geschlossen die Augen kaum,
So schleicht [das Bild sich leise]2
Hinein in meinen Traum

[Doch]3 mit dem Traum des Morgens
Zerrinnt es nimmermehr;
Dann trag' ich es im Herzen
Den ganzen Tag umher.

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Avondlied", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (David K. Smythe) , "When I lie on the bed", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • POL Polish (Polski) (Aleksander Kraushar) , "Gdy na łożu", first published 1880
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Elisa Rapado) , "Cuando estoy tumbando en el campo", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

View original text (without footnotes)
Confirmed with Heinrich Heine's Sämmtliche Werke, Erster Band: Reisebilder, Dritte Auflage, Philadelphia: Verlag von John Weik, 1856, pages 29-30.

1 omitted by Mendelssohn
2 Lang: "das liebe Bild"
3 Lang: "Und"

1. Thoughts  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
When on my couch reclining,
   Buried in pillows and night,
There hovers then before me
   A form of grace and light.

As soon as quiet slumber
   Has closed my weary eyes,
Then softly does the image
   Within my dream arise.

But with my dream at morning,
   It never [fades]1 away;
For in my heart I hear it
   Through all the livelong day.

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1 in some editions, "melts"

2. Il pleut des pétales de fleurs
 (Sung text)

Language: French (Français) 
Il pleut des pétales de fleurs,
La flamme se courbe au vent tiède,
De mes deux yeux je te possède
Et mes yeux ont besoin de pleurs.

Vieille argile, faite aux douleurs,
Quel goût de souffrir sans remède
Harcèle ainsi le cœur qui cède!
Il pleut des pétales de fleurs.

Les roses meurent chaque et toutes,
Je ne dis rien, et tu m'écoutes;
Sous tes immobiles cheveux.

L'amour est lourd, mon âme est lasse:
Quelle est donc, Chère, sur nous deux
Cette aile en silence qui passe?
Il pleut des pétales de fleurs.

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The text first appeared in the revue Au Mercure de France, August 1890, and later in Au Jardin de L'Infante, Paris, Éd. du Mercure de France, 1893.

2. The rose‑leaves are falling like rain
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The rose-leaves are falling like rain,
The candle-flame dips to the air,
And my two eyes possess thee there,
Yet the tears they can scarce restrain.

Ancient clay, refashioned to pain,
What thirst of incurable ainguish
Must torture thus our hearts that languish!
The rose-leaves are falling like rain.

The flow'rs are dying all!
Ah, dearest, I do not speak, and yet thou hearest,
And under thy motionless hair
Thy love is dull, I tire of loving:
What can it be, dear one, o'er us two,
This wing that in silence is moving?
The rose-leaves are falling like rain.

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