English translations of Zehn Naturlieder von Friedrich Oser für vierstimmigen Männerchor, opus 110

A gust of wind rushes in,
From where? From where?
Hear how it rustles in the treetops,
The pines! The pines!
Just an intense sound! – then quiet again
And the frost flutters downward.
What was that, my dear valley, what was that?
Today, for the very first time
Will your domain
Proclaim the arrival of Spring,
Soon storms will roar and howl mightily,
And Spring, Spring shall awaken.

A beam of light flames bright across the sky,
From where? From where?
See how the tree tops glisten
The pines! The pines!
Only a sudden flash! – then darkness again
And the heavens gaze sadly downward.
What was that, my dear valley, what was that?
Today, for the very first time
Will your domain
Proclaim the arrival of Spring,
Soon the sun will gleam and dazzle mightily,
And Spring, Spring shall awaken.

The snow is already retreating to the mountains
From there, from there,
Deep black, the winter calls defiance
To the pines, the pines.
Only a little more time! – Birdsong
Again will ring happy and joyfully.
Best wishes, my dear valley, best wishes!
Today, for the very first time
Will your domain
Proclaim the arrival of Spring,
Soon the streams will gush and foam mightily,
And Spring, Spring shall awaken.

   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!
You are robbing me of all the blossoms,
So that it snows upon walk and path,
You are even flinging the snow into my face
In heaps, you naughty scoundrel!
   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!

   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!
All the birds are fleeing in startlement
Deep into the woods, into the sure hiding place,
And the delicate flowers of the meadow,
Ah, look how they are trembling, oh look!
   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!

   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!
From the mountains you only chase down 
Stormclouds upon me, black and heavy;
Woe, not a single sunbeam gazes down
Any longer upon the blossoming valley!
   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!

   May wind!
   Halt, halt! not so rapidly!
If you wish to rage, well then I beg you
Take rather my worries away,
For all I care, across the sea with them,
The whole swarm of them, today yet!
   May wind!
   Away, away! quickly, quickly!

Now the willows are beginning to bloom,
  Rejoice, my heart!
A birdlet is already twittering now and then,
  Rejoice, my heart!
And though it not be the lovely springtime yet
With its beautiful green and its blossoms bright,
  Who knows, overnight
  It may appear with might,
  And soon with all its joy and glory,
Only rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, my heart!

White-flecked, the brooklets are rushing down into the valley,
  Rejoice, my heart!
The sun’s beams are smiling much more bravely already,
  Rejoice, my heart!
And though in the furrows snow may yet lie,
And though frost might still injure the springtime,
  Who knows, overnight
  It may appear with might,
  And soon with all its joy and glory,
Only rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, my heart!

Truly, already I felt a balmy breeze,
  Rejoice, my heart!
On the bank a floweret nods cleverly,
  Rejoice, my heart!
And although ice be still floating upon the lakes,
And springtime wisely yet waits [to appear],
  Who knows, overnight
  It may appear with might,
  And soon with all its joy and glory,
Only rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, my heart!

  You splendid, bright blossoming tree,
Yes, if I could interpret your dream,
If I could understand the soughing of your branches,
[Could understand] what sweet words they are exchanging,
If I could understand what the violets 
Confess to each other secretly,
  Then I could sing it and utter it fully
  How rich, oh springtime, and how beautiful is your radiance!

  Forest birdlet, that which you sing beautifully,
[Ye]1 west winds, that which you wish to whisper,
If I could understand it, and, you bright brooklet,
That which your waves prattle merrily,
If it could be carried to me through the air
What the sun and the blue of heaven ask each other,
  Then I could sing it and utter it fully
  How rich, oh springtime, and how beautiful is your radiance!

  And if I could capture it in a song,
That which moves through my deepest heart,
If only my dream, my happiness, and my love
Did not remain buried in there,
If everything moved in the urgency of rejoicing
Through the world with rich resounding,
  Then I could sing it and utter it fully,
  How rich, oh springtime, and how beautiful is your radiance!

    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!
Is it your greenery?
Is it your secret darkness?
Your colourful blooming?
The mad sparkling of the sun?
  That makes me ever anew and always
  Stand rapt in your magic, drunk with bliss.
    Who may tell,
    Who ever probe it?
  I must only always sing:
    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!

    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!
Is it your scents?
Is it the surging of your bushes?
The cool air,
Your high cathedrals?
  That again and again I am drawn
  Down to you, beloved.
    Who may tell,
    Who may ever probe it?
  I must only always sing:
    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!

    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!
Is it your singing?
Is it the whirling of your firs?
Your anxious lamentation?
The roaring of the old oaks?
  That homesickness immediately assails me,
  When I, oh lovely one, must leave you.
    Who may tell,
    Who ever probe it?
  I must only always sing:
    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!

    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!
Is it majesty?
Is it homely, comforting being
That wafts through you,
That makes you so exquisite?
  That the singer’s songs must again and again
  Praise you rejoicingly!
    Who may tell,
    Who ever probe it?
  I must only always sing:
    Oh forest, oh forest,
How eternally beautiful you are!

  The blessing of the night already sounds more quietly
And wishes to fade away like the strains of a harp,
And softly and gently
Upon the pinions of the tones,
Hark! the blessing of the day has awakened.
  Thus between night and day,
  How heart and soul may rejoice!
  Morning stillness, to be blessedly alone,
  Blessedly alone with God!

  The last star upon the twilit blue is already
Sparkling more dully and wishes to dissolve,
From out of dark grey
The day wishes to come alight,
But night still lies upon chasm and meadow.
  Thus between night and day,
  How heart and soul may rejoice!
  Morning stillness, to be blessedly alone,
  Blessedly alone with God!

  Every sorrow still conceals itself
And every pain, as if they slumbered
Forever here,
As upon the eternal morning,
And as if they were never to return, never.
  Thus between night and day,
  How heart and soul may rejoice!
  Morning stillness, to be blessedly alone,
  Blessedly alone with God!

At the edge of the forest stands a fir tree
With merrily swaying crown;
Two birds - whoosh! swing themselves up 
To the very highest peak,
And gaze down into the forest
And sing so loudly and sing so well,
  I well know what pleases you two so much,
  For there is nothing more beautiful in God’s world,
    As the wood, as the wood,
In the red, golden evening glow!

Oh, you birdlets, could I gaze down
With you upon all the shimmer,
Upon the sparkling green, upon the trembling light,
Upon the teasingly beautiful flickering!
And could I, like you, suddenly gaze
Into the splendour, oh how lovely that would be!
  For nothing pleases me and you so well,
  And there is nothing more beautiful in God’s world,
    As the wood, as the wood,
In the red, golden evening glow!

And when the last sunbeam
Has departed late from the wood,
And quiet night descends
With its blessed peace,
Then the birdlets fly into their nest,
And still in dreams it sounds delicately:
  There are many beautiful things that please us,
  But there is nothing more beautiful in God’s world,
    As the wood, as the wood,
In the red, golden evening glow!

  The thorn-bush is blooming and the shrubs are turning green,
Ye hearts, ye hearts, open now!
  Spring has come; rejoice and sing,
So that [your sound] dies away merrily in the mountain forest,
  And the lark up in the blue as well must answer
Our greeting with resounding jubilation!

  The brook is rushing and the valley is shimmering,
Ye hearts, ye hearts, heal yourself with rejoicing!
  Spring has come; lovely morning,
Take all our anxieties away,
  So that from every eye the springtime greeting
Must sparkle forth as brightly as the sun!

  It is [spring], yes it is! oh you blissful splendour!
Ye hearts, ye hearts, who would have thought it!
  Spring has come; exult to spring, all of you,
Rejoice and sing to spring with a joyful sound,
  So that at the brisk greeting, mountain and valley
Must bloom more richly and more beautifully!

  Away over the hills
The clouds gently pass,
To dissolve there
Softly in the splendour of evening,
  Oh how beautifully, how peacefully and beautifully
Do they travel along the heavenly heights!
  Heart, my heart, you, too, soar up,
May God give you rest,
And serene, heavenly peace as well.

  Over the meadows, lo,
The birdlets are whirring swiftly!
They are seeking the softness of the nest
Deep in the blossoming bush.
  Oh how beautifully along the forest
Their evening song is sounding and resounding!
  Heart, my heart, you, too, soar up,
May God give you rest,
And joyful, quiet trust as well.

  Above on the heavens now
A little star is already twinkling,
As if it had harkened from afar --
Hark -- to the sound of the bell.
  Oh how beautifully, so mildly and beautifully
It laughs down from the blue heights!
  Heart, my heart, you, too, soar up,
May God give you rest,
And blissful, blithe hope as well.

Resound briskly over the snowy field, my song,
Along through the silence of the slumbering valley!
No bird sings any longer.
No brooklet tinkles any longer.
Ring out, therefore, and sound all the more loudly, my song,
In defiance of the icy wind that rises up against you;
Pulse all the more audaciously, all the more briskly, my courage,
Course and surge all the more fervently, my blood!

The heights shimmer and glitter in the sunshine,
And down below, the firs, how lovely, how lovely!
No little branch stirs,
Moved by the wind.
Hasten all the more quickly and stride, my foot,
Though the squeaking of your steps be heard far and wide!
Ha! though the cold may penetrate [your] very bones,
It can never enter into [your] happy heart!

And the sky above, oh look, oh look!
The crystalline blue is almost transparent!
Only the most delicate scent 
In the golden air.
Thus must my eyes sparkle so joyfully,
Thus clear and brisk shall it be in my heart,
[Thus] shall my song echo from the heights:
Not springtime alone, winter, too, is beautiful!