English translations of Drei Chorgesänge, opus 11

by Peter Cornelius (1824 - 1874)

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1. Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht  [sung text not yet checked]
by Peter Cornelius (1824 - 1874), "Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht", op. 11 (Drei Chorgesänge) no. 1 (1871), published 1871 [ chorus a cappella ], Leipzig, Fritzsch
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht,
Das Leben ist der schwüle Tag.
Es dunkelt schon, mich schläfert,
Der Tag hat mich müd gemacht.

Über mein Bett erhebt sich ein Baum,
Drin singt die junge Nachtigall;
Sie singt von lauter Liebe -
Ich hör es sogar im Traum.

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by Heinrich Heine (1797 - 1856)
1. Death is the cool night
Language: English 
Death is the cool night;
Life is the sultry day.
It is growing dark already, and I feel drowsy, 
The day has made me weary.

Above my bed stands a tree
In which the young nightingale sings;
It sings of sonorous love -
And I even hear it in my dreams.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2019 by Emily Ezust

    Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:

    Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
    from the LiederNet Archive

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 50

Translation © by Emily Ezust
2. An den Sturmwind
 (Sung text)
by Peter Cornelius (1824 - 1874), "An den Sturmwind", op. 11 (Drei Chorgesänge) no. 2 (1871), published 1871 [ chorus a cappella ], Leipzig, Fritzsch
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Mächtiger, der brausend die Wipfel du beugst,
Sausend von Krone zu Krone entsteigst,
Wandle du Stürmender, wandle nur fort,
Reiß' mir den stürmenden Busen mit fort.

Wie das Gewölke, das donnernd entfliegt,
Dir auf der brausenden Schwinge sich wiegt,
Führe den Geist aus dem endlichen Haus
In die Unendlichkeit stürmend hinaus!

Führe mich hin, wo die wankende Welt,
Rings in Verwüstung und Trümmer zerfällt,
Über den Trümmern mit schauriger Lust
Fühl' ich den Gott in der pochenden Brust.

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by Friedrich Rückert (1788 - 1866)
2. To the storm-wind
Language: English 
Mighty one, who [bends the tree-tops to thy pleasure]1,
Rising [with a roar]2 from crown to crown,
Travel, Thou Storming One, only travel onward,
Carry my stormy bosom off with you.

As the clouds that fly off thunderously
Sway upon your whirling pinions,
Lead my spirit ragingly from 
The [earthly]3 abode out into infinity!

[Bear]4 me to where the [trembling]5 world
[Shatters]6 into devastation and ruins all around[;]
[Above the ruins with dreadful joy]7
[I feel the divinity in my throbbing breast.]8

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2024 by Sharon Krebs, (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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Translations of title(s):
"An den Sturmwind" = "To the storm-wind"
"Dem Allmächtigen" = "To the Almighty"
"Mächtiger, der du die Wipfeln" = "Mighty one, who [bends] the tree-tops"

1 Cornelius: "with roaring bends the tree-tops"
2 Cornelius: "speedily"
3 Cornelius: "finite"
4 Cornelius, Loewe: "Lead"
5 Cornelius: "tottering"
6 Cornelius: "Falls"
7 Cornelius: "Above the ruins with shuddering joy"; Loewe: "Though deeply bowed by Thee to weakness and misery:"
8 Loewe: "Lift me up, Thou almighty God!"


This text was added to the website: 2024-01-06
Line count: 12
Word count: 91

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
3. Die drei Frühlingstage
 (Sung text)
by Peter Cornelius (1824 - 1874), "Die drei Frühlingstage", op. 11 (Drei Chorgesänge) no. 3 (1871), published 1871 [ ssattb chorus ], Leipzig, Fritzsch
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Jugend, Rausch und Liebe sind
Wie drei flücht'ge Frühlingstage;
Um ihr Fliehen lass die Klage,
Mensch, geniesse sie geschwind!
Mensch, geniesse sie geschwind!
Um ihr Fliehen lass die Klage!
Wie drei flücht'ge Frühlingstage
Jugend, Rausch und Liebe sind.

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3.
[Translation not yet available]