Die Mühle, die dreht ihre Flügel,
 Der Sturm, der sauset darin,
Und unter der Linde am Hügel,
 Da weinet die Müllerin:

Lass sausen den Sturm und brausen,
 Ich habe gebaut auf den Wind;
Ich habe gebaut [auf Schwüre]1 --
 Da war ich ein törichtes Kind.

Noch hat mich der Wind nicht [belogen]2,
 Der Wind, der blieb mir treu;
Und bin ich verarmt und betrogen --
 Die Schwüre, die waren nur Spreu.

Wo [ist]3, der sie geschworen?
 Der Wind nimmt die [Klagen]4 nur auf;
Er hat sich auf's Wandern verloren --
 Es findet der Wind ihn nicht auf.

The windmill turns its blades,
 The storm roars within
And under the lime tree by the hill
 There the mill-maid is crying.

Let the storm roar and bluster,
 I counted on the wind;
I counted on vows--
 In so doing I acted like a foolish child.

The wind has not yet lied to me,
 The wind remained true to me;
And yet I am impoverished and betrayed --
 The vows, they were nothing but chaff.

Where is he, who made the vows?
 The wind only gathers up laments;
He has lost himself in wanderings --
 The wind cannot find a trace of him.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2009 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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Based on:

• a text in German (Deutsch) by Adelbert von Chamisso (1781 - 1838), "Die Müllerin", written 1822, appears in Lieder und lyrisch epische Gedichte
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This text was added to the website: 2009-11-21
Line count: 16
Word count: 101

Diese Rose pflück' ich hier
In der [fremden]1 Ferne,
Liebes [Mädchen]2, dir, ach dir,
Brächt' ich sie so gerne!

Doch bis ich zu dir mag ziehn
Viele weite Meilen,
Ist die Rose [längst]3 dahin;
Denn die Rosen eilen.

Nie soll weiter sich in's Land
Lieb' von Liebe [wagen]4,
Als sich blühend in der Hand
Läßt die Rose tragen;

Oder als die Nachtigall
Halme bringt zum Neste,
Oder als [ihr süßer]5 Schall
Wandert mit dem Weste.

I pick this rose here
In the [unknown]1 distance.
Dear [maiden]2, to you, ah to you
I would bring it so gladly!

But by the time I could travel to you
Many distant miles,
The rose would long be wilted;
For roses hasten [to die].

Never should lovers [venture]3
Farther from each other
Than a blooming rose may be
Carried in a person's hand [without wilting];

Or [farther] than the nightingale
Brings straws to its nest,
Or [farther] than [the nightingale's] sweet sounds
Are carried by the west wind.

Text Authorship:

• Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 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.
  Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
  
  

Based on:

• a text in German (Deutsch) by Nikolaus Lenau (1802 - 1850), no title, appears in Gedichte, in 4. Viertes Buch, in Liebesklänge, in An die Entfernte, no. 1
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¹ Mattiesen, Mendelssohn, Schoeck: "great"
² Lang: "Herze"
³ Bartók: "part"
Translated titles:
An die Entfernte = To the distant one
An die Entfernte I = To the distant one I
Der Entfernten = To the distant one
Diese Rose pflück' ich hier = I pick this rose here
Mit einer Rose = With a rose

This text was added to the website: 2006-12-04
Line count: 16
Word count: 93

Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer,
[Nur]1 wie Schleier liegt [mein]2 Kummer
  Zitternd über mir.
Oft im Traume hör' ich dich
Rufen [draus vor meiner]3 Thür:
Niemand wacht und öffnet dir,
  Ich erwach' und weine bitterlich.

Ja ich werde sterben müssen,
Eine andre wirst du küssen,
  Wenn ich bleich und kalt.
Eh die Maienlüfte [wehen]4,
Eh die Drossel singt im Wald:
Willst du [mich noch einmal sehen]5,
  [Komm, o komme bald!]6

My slumber grows ever more peaceful;
and only like a thin veil now does my anxiety
lie trembling upon me.
Often in my dreams I hear you
calling outside my door;
no one is awake to let you in,
and I wake up and weep bitterly.

Yes, I will have to die;
another will you kiss,
when I am pale and cold.
Before the May breezes blow,
before the thrush sings in the forest:
if you wish to see me once more,
come, o come soon!

Text Authorship:

• Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 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.
  licenses@email.lieder.example.net
  
  

Based on:

• a text in German (Deutsch) by Hermann von Lingg (1820 - 1905), "Lied", first published 1857
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 86