English translation of Tragödie

by Robert Schumann (1810 - 1856), "Tragödie", op. 64 (Romanzen und Balladen für Singstimme und Klavier (Heft 4)) no. 3 (1841), published 1847 [ voice and piano ], Leipzig, Whistling

Note: this is a translation of one multi-text setting.

Return to the original list

Entflieh mit mir und sei mein Weib,
Und ruh' an meinem Herzen aus;
In weiter Ferne sei mein Herz
Dein Vaterland und Vaterhaus.

Entfliehn wir nicht, so sterb' ich hier
Und du bist einsam und allein;
Und bleibst du auch im Vaterhaus,
Wirst doch wie in der Fremde sein.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

View text with all available footnotes

Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Garrett Medlock [Guest Editor] 
Es fiel ein Reif in der Frühlingsnacht,    
Es fiel auf die zarten Blaublümelein:
Sie sind verwelket, verdorret.

Ein Jüngling hatte ein Mädchen lieb,
Sie flohen heimlich von Hause fort,
Es wußt' weder Vater noch Mutter.

Sie sind gewandert hin und her,
Sie haben gehabt weder Glück noch Stern,
Sie sind gestorben, verdorben.

Text Authorship:

Based on:

See other settings of this text.

View text with all available footnotes

Confirmed with Neue Gedichte von Heinrich Heine, Zehnte Auflage, Hamburg, Hoffmann und Campe, 1871, page 151. Below the number at the top of the text are the following words: "(Dieses ist ein wirkliches Volkslied, welches ich am Rheine gehört.)" which can be translated "This is a real folksong that I heard on the Rhein". See also Backer-Grøndahl's song, which uses some of this text.


Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Garrett Medlock [Guest Editor] 
Auf ihrem Grab, da steht eine Linde,
Drin pfeifen die Vögel im Abendwinde,
Und drunter sitzt, auf dem grünen Platz,
Der Müllersknecht mit seinem Schatz.

Die Winde wehen so lind und so schaurig,
Die Vögel singen so süß und so traurig:
Die schwatzenden Buhlen, sie werden stumm,
Sie weinen und wissen selbst nicht warum.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

View text with all available footnotes

Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Garrett Medlock [Guest Editor]
Author(s): Heinrich Heine (1797 - 1856)
 Flee with me and be my wife,
 and rest upon my heat;
 in distant lands let my heart
 be your fatherland and your parental home.
 
 If we do not flee, I'll die here
 and you will be lonely and alone;
 and you will remain in your parental house,
 but it will be like a foreign land to you.

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.


Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


There fell a frost on a night of Spring,
it fell on the delicate blossoms blue:
the blossoms withered, and drooped.

A young man once loved a maiden fair;
in secret they ran away from home,
unknown to their father or mother.

They wandered aimless here and there,
they had neither luck nor aiding star,
they met their ruin, they perished.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 1996 by David Kenneth Smith, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., please ask the copyright-holder(s) directly.

    David Kenneth Smith.  Contact: dksmith (AT) geneva.edu


    If the copyright-holder(s) are unreachable for three business days, please write to:


Based on:

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


 Over their grave stands a linden tree,
 in which the birds are piping in the evening wind,
 and on the grass underneath sits
 the miller's boy with his sweetheart.
 
 The wind blows so mildly and eerily,
 the birds sing so sweetly and mournfully:
 the chattering youngsters, they fall silent;
 they weep and they do not know why.

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.


Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


Translation © by Emily Ezust, David Kenneth Smith