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Zu wenig Morgen sind’s. Elf Lieder für Sopran und Klavier
Translations © by Bertram Kottmann
by Ricky Ian Gordon (b. 1956)
View original-language texts alone: Too Few the Mornings Be. Eleven Songs for Soprano and Piano
Too few the mornings be, Too scant the nights. No lodging can be had For the delights That come to earth to stay, But no apartment find And ride away.
Zu wenig Morgen sind’s, und Nächte kaum. Für Freuden findet sich kein Herbergsraum. Gern weilten sie an ird’schem Ort, finden jedoch kein Quartier und reiten fort.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2021 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
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This text was added to the website: 2021-03-17
Line count: 7
Word count: 26
If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They'd laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have Would only come today, They could not be so big as this That happens to me now.
Wenn alles Leid heut träfe ein, das je mir zugedacht, lief’ es, säh’ es mich glücklich sein, glaub’ ich, davon und lacht’. Wenn alle Freud heut träfe ein, die je mir würd’ bereit’, sie könnte nicht so riesig sein wie die zugegen heut.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2021 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-17
Line count: 8
Word count: 43
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth, - The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity.
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems of Emily Dickinson, first published 1890
See other settings of this text.
Geschäftigkeit im Haus morgens nach einem End, ist wohl das feierlichste Tun, das man auf Erden kennt. Man fegt die Herzen aus und legt die Lieb’ zur Seit’, die erst wieder zum Einsatz kommt in ferner Ewigkeit.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2021 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems of Emily Dickinson, first published 1890
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-17
Line count: 8
Word count: 37
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me, - The simple news that nature told, With tender magesty. Her message is committed To hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, Judge tenderly of me!
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems of Emily Dickinson, first published 1890
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You cannot put a Fire out - A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan - Opon the slowest night - You cannot fold a Flood - And put it in a Drawer - Because the Winds would find it out - And tell your Cedar Floor -
Solch Feuer nicht zu löschen ist, denn, was sich selbst entfacht, brennt ohne Fächeln vor sich hin über die längste Nacht. Die Flut ist unfaltbar, im Schrank schlecht abgelegt. Der Wind würd’ sicher dess’ gewahr, verriet’s deinem Parkett.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2021 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-17
Line count: 8
Word count: 38
Bee! I'm expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due -- The Frogs got Home last Week -- Are settled, and at work -- Birds, mostly back -- The Clover warm and thick -- You'll get my Letter by The Seventeenth; Reply Or better, be with me -- Yours, Fly.
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Bolts of Melody, first published 1945
See other settings of this text.
Confirmed with The Poems of Emily Dickinson, ed. R.W. Franklin, Volume 2, Cambridge, MA and London, England: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1998, Poem 983.
Biene! Ich erwarte dich! Seist fällig eigentlich, erzählte gestern ich einem, den du kennst. Seit letzter Woche sind die Frösche hier am Werk, die meisten Vögel auch, der Klee steht warm und dicht. Bis Siebzehnten erreicht mein Brief dich; schreib zurück; noch besser, du kommst gleich - Gruß, Fliege.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2016 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Bolts of Melody, first published 1945
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2016-03-13
Line count: 12
Word count: 48
Poor little heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little heart! Did they forsake thee? Be debonair! Be debonair! Frail little heart! I would not break thee: Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? Gay little heart! Like morning glory Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be!
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1896
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Trauriges Herz! Vergaßen sie dich? Ärger dich nicht! Ärger dich nicht! Hoffärtig Herz! Verließen sie dich!? Hab Zuversicht! Hab Zuversicht! Fragiles Herz! Nie breche ich dich: Baust du auf mich? Baust du auf mich? Heiteres Herz! Wie Windengewächs welkst du dahin; welkst du dahin!
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2018 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1896
Go to the general single-text view
Translation of title "Poor little heart!" = "Trauriges Herz!"This text was added to the website: 2018-06-22
Line count: 12
Word count: 44
How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1891
See other settings of this text.
Wie glücklich doch der kleine Stein, der auf dem Weg ist, ganz allein, der Karrieren ignoriert, in Nöten furchtlos reagiert; ein Universum en passant zog ihm ’nen braunen Mantel an. Frei wie die Sonn, für sich allein kann leuchten er, oder zu zwein. Hält sich an obersten Entscheid in ungezwungner Einfachheit.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2018 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1891
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2018-07-23
Line count: 10
Word count: 51
Estranged from Beauty - none can be - For Beauty is Infinity - And power to be finite ceased Before Identity was leased -
Mit Schönheit niemand sich entzweit, denn Schönheit ist Unendlichkeit. Die Kraft, endlich zu sein, entschwand, eh man pachtweise zu sich fand.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2021 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-17
Line count: 4
Word count: 21
Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like water-lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise man from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies!
Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1891
See other settings of this text.
Wird es „Morgen“ wirklich geben? Gibt es so etwas wie „Tag“? Könnt ich’s von ganz oben sehen, wenn ich hätt’ der Berge Schlag? Hat es Sprossen wie Seerosen? Federn, wie’s der Vogel hat? Aus fernem Land zu uns gestoßen, von dem man keine Ahnung hat? Ach, Gelehrter! Ach,Matrose! Weiser, der vom Himmel fliegt! Sagt einem, der auf dem Weg ist, wo, was „Morgen“ heißt, denn liegt.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2016 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title, appears in Poems by Emily Dickinson, first published 1891
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2016-11-28
Line count: 12
Word count: 66