Mörike Songs

Song Cycle by Hugo Wolf (1860 - 1903)

View original-language texts alone: Mörike-Lieder

1. Der Genesene an die Hoffnung
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Tödtlich graute mir der Morgen:
Doch schon lag mein Haupt, wie süß!
Hoffnung, dir im Schoß verborgen,
bis der Sieg gewonnen hieß,
bis der Sieg gewonnen hieß.

Opfer bracht' ich allen Göttern,
Doch vergessen warest du;
Seitwärts von den ew'gen Rettern
Sahest du dem Feste zu.

O, vergieb, du Vielgetreue!
Tritt aus deinem Dämmerlicht,
Daß ich dir in's ewig neue,
Mondenhelle Angesicht

Einmal schaue, recht von Herzen,
Wie ein Kind und sonder Harm;
Ach, nur Einmal ohne Schmerzen
schließe mich in deinen Arm!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
1. The Convalescent addresses Hope
Language: English 
Death-like the morning dawns:
But already my head lay, so sweetly
Hope, hidden in your lap,
until the victory was won,
until the victory was won.

Sacrifices I brought to all the gods,
But forgot to look after you;
Standing aside from the eternal saviours
Watching the celebrations.

O, forgive me, you ever-faithful!
Venture from your twilight,
So that I, at your eternally renewed
Moon-bright face,

Once more may gaze, with all my heart,
Like a child, and without grief;
Oh, just once more without pain
wrap me in your embrace!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2008 by Iain Sneddon, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2008-08-23
Line count: 17
Word count: 91

Translation © by Iain Sneddon
2. Der Knabe und das Immlein
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Im Weinberg auf der Höhe 
ein Häuslein steht so winde bang; 
hat weder Tür noch Fenster,
die Weile wird ihm lang.

Und ist der Tag so schwüle, 
sind all' verstummt die Vögelein,
summt an der Sonnenblume
ein Immlein ganz allein.

Lieb hat einen Garten, 
da steht ein hübsches Immenhaus:
kommst du daher geflogen? 
schickt sie dich nach mir aus?

O nein, du feiner Knabe, 
es hieß mich Niemand Boten gehn;
dieses Kind weiß nichts von Lieben, 
hat dich noch kaum gesehn.

Was wüßten auch die Mädchen,
wenn sie kaum aus der Schule sind!
Dein herzallerliebstes Schätzchen
ist noch ein Mutterkind.

Ich bring' ihm Wachs und Honig; ade!
ich hab' ein ganzes Pfund;
wie wird das Schätzchen lachen,
ihm wässert schon der Mund -

Ach, wolltest du ihr sagen,
ich wüßte, was viel süßer ist: 
nichts Lieblichers auf Erden
als wenn man herzt und küßt!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
2. The Lad and the Bee
Language: English 
In a vineyard up on the hill
stands a cottage that is open to the elements.
It has neither door nor window
and time hangs heavy on it.

However the sultry the day,
even if all the birds have fallen silent,
you will hear buzzing on the sunflower.
It is a bee all on its own.

My love has a garden
in which there is a pretty beehive.
Is that where you have flown from?
Did she send you to me?

"Oh no, mate,
nobody has sent me with any message.
That child doesn't know anything about love.
She has hardly set eyes on you.

What on earth can girls know
when they have only just left school?
Your dearest little treasure
is still her mother's daughter.

I'm taking her some wax and honey.
Goodbye. I've got a whole pound.
How your little treasure is going to laugh!
Her mouth will be watering already!"

Oh, I wish you would tell her
I know something that is much sweeter.
There is nothing more loveable on earth
than having a hug and a kiss.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-06
Line count: 28
Word count: 182

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
3. Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Derweil ich schlafend lag,
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag,
Sang vor dem Fenster auf dem Baum
Ein Schwälblein mir, ich hört' es kaum
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag:

"Hör an, was ich dir sag'!
Dein Schätzlein ich verklag':
Derweil ich dieses singen tu',
Herzt er ein Lieb in guter Ruh,
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag."

O weh! nicht weiter sag'!
O still! nichts hören mag!
Flieg ab, flieg ab von meinem Baum!
-- Ach, Lieb' und Treu' ist wie ein Traum
Ein Stündlein wohl vor Tag.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
3. An hour before daybreak
Language: English 
 As I lay sleeping,
 well an hour before daybreak,
 by my window on the tree there sang
 for me a little swallow; I could hardly hear it
 an hour before daybreak.
 
 "Listen well to what I say to you -
 your sweetheart I denounce:
 as I am singing this,
 he is clasping his love in good repose,
 an hour before daybreak."
 
 O woe! say no more!
 O silence! I want to hear no more!
 Fly away, fly away from my tree!
 Alas, love and fidelity are like a dream
 an hour before daybreak!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 15
Word count: 93

Translation © by Emily Ezust
4. Jägerlied
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Zierlich ist des Vogels Tritt im Schnee,
Wenn er wandelt auf des Berges Höh':
Zierlicher schreibt Liebchens liebe Hand,
Schreibt ein Brieflein mir in ferne Land'.

In die Lüfte hoch ein Reiher steigt,
Dahin weder Pfeil noch Kugel fleugt:
Tausendmal so hoch und so geschwind
Die Gedanken treuer Liebe sind.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
4. Hunter's song
Language: English 
Dainty is the bird's step on the snow
when it wanders on the mountain heights
daintier writes my love's dear hand,
writing a letter to me in distant lands.
 
A heron soars high in the air
where neither arrow nor bullet can fly:
a thousand times as high and swift
are thoughts of true love.

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 of title "Jägerlied" = "Hunter's song"


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 55

Translation © by Emily Ezust
5. Der Tambour
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Wenn meine Mutter hexen könnt,
Da müßt sie mit dem Regiment,
Nach Frankreich, überall mit hin,
Und wär die Marketenderin.
Im Lager, wohl um Mitternacht,
Wenn Niemand auf ist als die Wacht,
Und Alles schnarchet, Roß und Mann,
Vor meiner Trommel säß' ich dann:
Die Trommel müßt' eine Schüssel sein,
Ein warmes Sauerkraut darein,
Die Schlegel Messer und Gabel,
Eine lange Wurst mein Sabel,
Mein Tschako wär' ein Humpen gut,
Den füll' ich mit Burgunderblut.
Und weil es mir an Lichte fehlt,
Da scheint der Mond in mein Gezelt;
Scheint er auch auf Franzö'sch herein,
Mir fällt doch meine Liebste ein:
Ach weh! Jetzt hat der Spaß ein End!
- Wenn nur meine Mutter hexen könnt!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
5. The drummer boy
Language: English 
If my mother could work magic
she would go off with the regiment
to France. She would go everywhere with them
and be a camp follower selling supplies.
In camp at midnight
when there is noone up except the watch
and everybody is snoring, horses and men,
that's when I would sit in front of my drum.
The drum would turn into a bowl
with warm sauerkraut in it
The drumsticks, knife and fork,
a long sausage - that was my sabre.
My shako would be a good mug
that I would fill with burgundy's blood.
And because I would not have a light
the moon would shine into my tent.
Even if it was shining in French
I would still be reminded of my love.
Oh dear! That's brought the fun to an end.
If only my mother could work magic.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 20
Word count: 141

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
6. Er ist's!
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Frühling läßt sein blaues Band
Wieder flattern durch die Lüfte;
Süße, wohlbekannte Düfte
Streifen ahnungsvoll das Land.
Veilchen träumen schon,
Wollen balde kommen.
-- Horch, von fern ein leiser Harfenton!
Frühling, ja du bist's!
Dich hab' ich vernommen!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
6.
Language: English 
Spring lets its blue ribbon
flutter again in the breeze;
a sweet, familiar scent
sweeps with promise through the land.
Violets are already dreaming,
and will soon arrive.
Hark! In the distance - a soft harp tone!
Spring, yes it is you!
It is you that I have heard!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 9
Word count: 48

Translation © by Emily Ezust
7. Das verlassene Mägdlein
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Früh, wann die Hähne kräh'n,
Eh' die Sternlein schwinden,
Muß ich am Herde stehn,
Muß Feuer zünden.

Schön ist der Flammen Schein,
Es springen die Funken.
Ich schaue so darein,
In Leid versunken.

Plötzlich, da kommt es mir,
Treuloser Knabe,
Daß ich die Nacht von dir
Geträumet habe.

Träne auf Träne dann
Stürzet hernieder;
So kommt der Tag heran -
O ging' er wieder!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
7.
Language: English 
Early, when the cock crows,
Before the stars disappear,
I must stand at the hearth;
I must light the fire.

Beautiful is the blaze of the flames;
[The sparks fly]1.
I gaze into the fire,
Sunk in grief.

Suddenly, it comes to me,
Unfaithful boy,
That last night
I dreamed of you.

Tears upon tears then 
Pour down;
So the day comes -
O would it were gone again!

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

View original text (without footnotes)

Translated titles:
"Das verlassene Mägdlein" = "The abandoned maiden"
"Die Verlassene" = "The abandoned one"
1 Reinecke: "Bright fly the sparks"


This text was added to the website: 2003-10-13
Line count: 16
Word count: 70

Translation © by Emily Ezust
8. Begegnung
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Was doch heut Nacht ein Sturm gewesen,
Bis erst der Morgen sich geregt!
Wie hat der ungebetne Besen
Kamin und Gassen ausgefegt!

Da kommt ein Mädchen schon die Straßen,
Das halb verschüchtert um sich sieht;
Wie Rosen, die der Wind zerblasen,
So unstet ihr Gesichtchen glüht.

Ein schöner Bursch tritt ihr entgegen,
Er will ihr voll Entzücken nahn:
Wie sehn sich freudig und verlegen
Die ungewohnten Schelme an!

Er scheint zu fragen, ob das Liebchen
Die Zöpfe schon zurecht gemacht,
Die heute Nacht im offnen Stübchen 
Ein Sturm in Unordnung gebracht.

Der Bursche träumt noch von den Küßen,
Die ihm das süße Kind getauscht,
Er steht, von Anmut hingerissen, 
Derweil sie um die Ecke rauscht.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
8. Encounter
Language: English 
What a storm it was last night,
raging until the morning!
How that unprayed-for broom
swept clean the chimneys and the streets!

There comes a maiden along the street
who, half-scared, glances around her;
like roses that the wind blows wild,
so her face's glow fluctuates.

A handsome boy steps up toward her:
he wants to approach her, full of delight:
how joyful and embarrassed
seems this unaccustomed rogue!

He appears to ask, whether his sweetheart
has put to right her braids,
which last night in her open chamber
a storm brought into disorder.

The lad still dreams of the kisses
which that sweet girl exchanged with him;
and he stands, overcome by her charm,
while away she rushes, around the corner.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 122

Translation © by Emily Ezust
9. Nimmersatte Liebe
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
So ist die Lieb'! So ist die Lieb'!
Mit Küßen nicht zu stillen :
Wer ist der Tor und will ein Sieb
Mit eitel Wasser füllen?
Und schöpfst du an die tausend Jahr;
Und küßest ewig, ewig gar,
Du tust ihr nie zu Willen.

Die Lieb', die Lieb' hat alle Stund'
Neu wunderlich Gelüsten;
Wir bißen uns die Lippen wund,
Da wir uns heute küßten.
Das Mädchen hielt in guter Ruh',
Wie's Lämmlein unter'm Messer;
Ihr Auge bat: nur immer zu,
Je weher, desto beßer!

So ist die Lieb', und war auch so,
Wie lang es Liebe giebt, 
Und anders war Herr Salomo,
Der Weise, nicht verliebt.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
9. Insatiable love
Language: English 
Thus is love! Thus is love!
It cannot be satiated with kisses:
Who is such a fool as to try to fill
A sieve with nothing but water?
And if you scooped water for a thousand years;
And kissed for ever and ever,
You would never manage to satisfy love.
 
Love, love has strange new yearnings
Every hour of the day;
We wounded our lips with bites
When we kissed each other today.
The maiden held perfectly still,
Like a little lamb under the knife;
Her eyes pleaded:  just continue,
The more it hurts, the better!
 
Thus is love, and has been thus
As long as there has been love,
And Solomon, the wise one, was
Not in love any differently.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2016-02-08
Line count: 19
Word count: 121

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
10. Fußreise
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Am frischgeschnittnen Wanderstab,
Wenn ich in der Frühe
So durch Wälder ziehe,
Hügel auf und ab:
Dann, wie's Vöglein im Laube
Singet und sich rührt,
Oder wie die goldne Traube
Wonnegeister spürt 
In der ersten Morgensonne:
So fühlt auch mein alter, lieber
Adam Herbst und Frühlingsfieber,
Gottbeherzte,
Nie verscherzte
Erstlings-Paradiseswonne.

Also bist du nicht so schlimm, o alter
Adam, wie die strengen Lehrer sagen;
Liebst und lobst du immer doch,
Singst und preisest immer noch,
Wie an ewig neuen Schöpfungstagen,
Deinen lieben Schöpfer und Erhalter.

Möcht' es dieser geben 
Und mein ganzes Leben
Wär' im leichten Wanderschweiße
Eine solche Morgenreise!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
10. Journey on foot
Language: English 
With my fresh-cut walking staff
Early in the morning
I go through the woods,
Over the hills, and away.
Then, like the birds in the arbor
That sing and stir,
Or like the golden grapes
That trace their blissful spirits
In the first morning light
I feel in my age, too, beloved
Adam's spring- and autumn-fever --
God fearing,
But not discarded:
The first delights of Paradise.

You are not so bad, oh old
Adam, as the strict teachers say;
You love and rejoice,
Sing and praise --
As it is eternally the first day of creation --
Your beloved Creator and Preserver.

I would like to be given to this
And my whole life
Would be in simple wandering wonder
Of one such morning stroll.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Paul Hindemith, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2003-10-22
Line count: 24
Word count: 123

Translation © by Paul Hindemith
11. An eine Äolsharfe
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Angelehnt an die Efeuwand 
Dieser alten Terrasse,
Du, einer luftgebor'nen Muse
Geheimnisvolles Saitenspiel,
Fang' an,
Fange wieder an 
Deine melodische Klage!
Ihr kommet, Winde, fern herüber,
Ach! von des Knaben,
Der mir so lieb war,
Frischgrünendem Hügel.
Und Frühlingsblüten unterwegs streifend,
Übersättigt mit Wohlgerüchen,
Wie süß, wie süß bedrängt ihr dies Herz!
Und säuselt her in die Saiten,
Angezogen von wohllautender Wehmut,
Wachsend im Zug meiner Sehnsucht,
Und hinsterbend wieder.
Aber auf einmal,
Wie der Wind heftiger herstößt,
Ein holder Schrei der Harfe
Wiederholt mir zu süßem Erschrecken
Meiner Seele plötzliche Regung,
Und hier, die volle Rose streut geschüttelt
All' ihre Blätter vor meine Füße!

Text Authorship:

  • by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875), from Gedichtsammlung, first published 1838

See other settings of this text.

Note: the poem is preceded by a quotation from Horace:
   Tu semper urges fleblilibus modis
   Mysten ademptum: nec tibi Vespere
   Surgente decedunt amores,
   Nec rapidum fugiente Solem.
by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
11. To an aeolian harp
Language: English 
Leaning up against the ivy-covered wall
Of this old terrace,
You, an air-borne muse,
A lute-melody full of mystery,
Begin,
Begin again,
Your melodious lament!
You come, winds, from far away,
Ah! from the boy 
Who was so dear to me,
From his hill so freshly green.
On your way, streaking over spring blossoms
Saturated with sweet scents,
How sweetly, how sweetly you besiege my heart!
You rustle the strings here,
Drawn by harmonious melancholy,
Growing louder in the pull of my longing,
And then dying down again.
But all at once,
The wind blows violently
And a lovely cry of the harp
Echoes, to my sweet terror,
The sudden stirring of my soul,
And here, the ample rose shakes and strews
All its petals at my feet!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 25
Word count: 128

Translation © by Emily Ezust
12. Verborgenheit
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Laß, o Welt, o laß mich sein!
Locket nicht mit Liebesgaben,
Laßt dies Herz alleine haben
Seine Wonne, seine Pein!

Was ich traure, weiß ich nicht,
Es ist unbekanntes Wehe;
Immerdar durch Tränen sehe
Ich der Sonne liebes Licht.

Oft bin ich mir kaum bewußt,
Und die helle Freude zücket
Durch die Schwere, so mich drücket,
Wonniglich in meiner Brust.

Laß, o Welt, o laß mich sein!
Locket nicht mit Liebesgaben,
Laßt dies Herz alleine haben
Seine Wonne, seine Pein!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Note to stanza 3, line 3: in some anthologies this line is given erroneously as "Durch die Schwere, die mich drücket."

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
12. Seclusion
Language: English 
Oh, world, let me be!
Entice me not with gifts of love.
Let this heart in solitude have
Your bliss, your pain!

What I mourn, I know not.
It is an unknown pain;
Forever through tears shall I see
The sun's love-light.

Often, I am scarcely conscious
And the bright joys break
Through the pain, thus pressing
Delightfully into my breast.

Oh, world, let me be!
Entice me not with gifts of love.
Let this heart in solitude have
Your bliss, your pain!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Paul Hindemith, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 83

Translation © by Paul Hindemith
13. Im Frühling
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Hier lieg' ich auf dem Frühlingshügel:
Die Wolke wird mein Flügel,
Ein Vogel fliegt mir voraus.
Ach, sag' mir, all-einzige Liebe,
Wo du bleibst, daß ich bei dir bliebe,
Doch du und die Lüfte, ihr habt kein Haus.

Der Sonnenblume gleich steht mein Gemüte offen,
Sehnend,
Sich dehnend,
In Lieben und Hoffen.
Frühling, was bist du gewillt?
Wann werd' ich gestillt?

Die Wolke seh' ich wandeln und den Fluß,
Es dringt der Sonne goldner Kuß
Mir tief bis in's Geblüt hinein;
Die Augen, wunderbar berauschet,
Thun, als schliefen sie ein,
Nur noch das Ohr dem Ton der Biene lauschet.
Ich denke Dieß und denke Das,
Ich sehne mich, und weiß nicht recht, nach was:
Halb ist es Lust, halb ist es Klage;
Mein Herz, o sage:
Was webst du für Erinnerung
In golden grüner Zweige Dämmerung?
-- Alte unnennbare Tage!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Gedichte von Eduard Mörike, Sechste Auflage, Stuttgart, G. J. Göschen'sche Verlagshandlung, 1876, page 41.


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
13. In springtime
Language: English 
Here I lie upon the hillside in springtime:
The cloud becomes my wing,
A bird flies before me.
Ah, tell me, utterly singular love,
Where you dwell, so that I might stay with you!
But you and the breezes, you have no abode.
 
Like the sunflower, my spirit stands open,
Yearning,
Stretching itself
In loving and hoping.
Spring, what are you disposed to do?
When shall [my yearning] be assuaged?
 
I see the clouds wandering and the river,
The sun’s golden kiss penetrates
Deeply, all the way to my flowing blood;
The eyes, wondrously intoxicated,
Act as if they were falling asleep,
Only the ear still listens to the sound of the bee.
I ponder this and ponder that,
I am yearning, but I do not really know for what:
It is half rapture, half lamenting;
My heart, oh tell,
What sort of memories are you weaving
In the golden-green gloaming of the branches?
-- Ancient, inexpressible days!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2016-02-25
Line count: 25
Word count: 157

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
14. Agnes
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Rosenzeit! wie schnell vorbei,
    Schnell vorbei 
Bist du doch gegangen!
Wär' mein Lieb' nur blieben treu,
    Blieben treu,
Sollte mir nicht bangen.

Um die Ernte wohlgemut,
    Wohlgemut
Schnitterrinnen singen.
Aber, ach! mir kranken Blut,
    Mir kranken Blut
Will nichts mehr gelingen.

Schleiche so durch's Wiesental,
    So durch's Tal,
Als im Traum verloren,
Nach dem Berg, da tausendmal,
    Tausendmal,
Er mir Treu' geschworen.

Oben auf des Hügels Rand, 
    Abgewandt,
Wein' ich bei der Linde;
An dem Hut mein Rosenband, 
    Von seiner Hand,
Spielet in dem Winde.

Text Authorship:

  • by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875), "Agnes", written 1831, first published 1838

See other settings of this text.

Note: written for the novel Maler Nolten, in which it had the title "Refrain-Liedchen"
by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
14. Time of roses! How quickly past
Language: English 
Time of roses! How quickly past,
Quickly past 
have you gone!
Had my sweetheart only remained true,
remained true,
Then I should fear nothing.

At the harvest, cheerfully,
Cheerfully 
the reaping women sing.
But ah! poor me, 
poor me,
I can no longer do anything right.

I creep so through the meadow valley,
Through the meadow valley, 
as if lost in a dream,
To the mountain, where a thousand times,
a thousand times,
he swore he would be true.

Above on the edge of the hill, 
turning away,
I weep by the linden tree;
On my hat, the wreath of roses 
that he made for me 
Blows in the wind.

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

Note: updated 2014-03-25 after a kind suggestion by Lau Kanen.



This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 110

Translation © by Emily Ezust
15. Auf einer Wanderung
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
In ein freundliches Städtchen tret' ich ein,
In den Straßen liegt roter Abendschein.
Aus einem offnen Fenster eben, 
Über den reichsten Blumenflor
Hinweg, hört man Goldglockentöne schweben,
Und eine Stimme scheint ein Nachtigallenchor,
Daß die Blüten beben,
Daß die Lüfte leben,
Daß in höherem Rot die Rosen leuchten vor.

Lang' hielt ich staunend, lustbeklommen.
Wie ich hinaus vor's Tor gekommen,
Ich weiß es wahrlich selber nicht.
Ach hier, wie liegt die Welt so licht!
Der Himmel wogt in purpurnem Gewühle,
Rückwärts die Stadt in goldnem Rauch;
Wie rauscht der Erlenbach, wie rauscht im Grund die Mühle,
Ich bin wie trunken, irrgeführt --
O Muse, du hast mein Herz berührt
Mit einem Liebeshauch!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
15. On a walk
Language: English 
Into a friendly little town I stroll -
in its streets lie the red evening glow.
From an open window,
across the most splendid riot of flowers,
one can hear gold chimes floating past,
and its one voice sounds like a chorus of nightingales,
so that the blossoms tremble,
so that the breezes come to life,
and so that the roses glow even redder.

Long I pause, astounded and oppressed by joy.
How I finally found myself past the gate
I truly do not myself know.
Ah, here, how lightly does the world lie!
The heavens sway in a purple crowd,
back there, the town is a golden haze:
how the alder brook rushes, how the mill roars on the ground;
I am as if drunk and disoriented;
o Muse, you have stirred my heart
with a breath of love!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 19
Word count: 139

Translation © by Emily Ezust
16. Elfenlied
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Bei Nacht im Dorf der Wächter rief: 
    Elfe!
Ein ganz kleines Elfchen im Walde schlief --
    Wohl um die Elfe! --
Und meint, es rief ihm aus dem Tal 
Bei seinem Namen die Nachtigall,
Oder Silpelit hätt' ihm gerufen.
Reibt sich der Elf' die Augen aus,
Begibt sich vor sein Schneckenhaus
Und ist als wie ein trunken Mann,
Sein Schläflein war nicht voll getan,
Und humpelt also tippe tapp
Durch's Haselholz in's Tal hinab,
Schlupft an der Mauer hin so dicht,
Da sitzt der Glühwurm Licht an Licht.
»Was sind das helle Fensterlein?
Da drin wird eine Hochzeit sein:
Die Kleinen sitzen bei'm Mahle,
Und treiben's in dem Saale.
Da guck' ich wohl ein wenig 'nein!« 
-- Pfui, stößt den Kopf an harten Stein!
Elfe, gelt, du hast genug?
    Gukuk! Gukuk!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
16. Elf song
Language: English 
At night in the village the watchman called out:
    "Eleven!"
A tiny little elf was sleeping in the forest --
    Just at eleven o’clock! --
And he thinks that from out the valley
The nightingale must have called him by name,
Or that [Silpelit]1 might have called to him.
The elf rubs his eyes,
Steps out in front of his snail-shell house,
And is like a drunken man,
[For] his little sleep was not long enough;
And he hobbles about thus, tip tap
Through the hazelwood down into the valley,
Slips along closely beside the wall;
There sits the glow-worm, light upon light.
"What bright windows are those?
There must be a wedding celebration inside;
The little folk are sitting at the feast
And carousing about in the ballroom.
I shall just peep inside a bit!"
-- Faugh! he bumps his head against hard stone!
Well, elf, I guess you’ve had enough?
    Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

View original text (without footnotes)
Note: The German word "elf" means both "eleven" and "elf"
1 Silpelit is the king of the elves.


This text was added to the website: 2016-03-08
Line count: 23
Word count: 152

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
17. Der Gärtner
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Auf ihrem Leibrößlein
So weiß wie der Schnee,
Die schönste Prinzessin
Reit't durch die Allee.

Der Weg, den das Rößlein
Hintanzet so hold,
Der Sand, den ich streute,
Er blinket wie Gold!

Du rosenfarbs Hütlein
Wohl auf und wohl ab,
O wirf eine Feder,
Verstohlen herab!

Und willst du dagegen
Eine Blüte von mir,
Nimm tausend für eine,
Nimm alle dafür!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
17.
Language: English 
On her favorite pony
as white as snow,
the fairest princess
rides down the avenue.
 
On the path down which her steed
so finely prances,
the sand that I strewed there
glitters like gold!
 
You rose-colored little hat,
bobbing up and down,
O toss a feather
stealthily down!
 
And if, for that, you would like
a little flower from me,
take a thousand for one -
take all of them!

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 of title "Der Gärtner" = "The gardener"


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 69

Translation © by Emily Ezust
18. Citronenfalter im April
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Grausame Frühlingssonne,
Du weckst mich vor der Zeit,
Dem nur in Maienwonne 
Die zarte Kost gedeiht!
Ist nicht ein liebes Mädchen hier,
Das auf der Rosenlippe mir
Ein Tröpfchen Honig beut,
So muß ich jämmerlich vergehn
Und wird der Mai mich nimmer sehn
In meinem gelben Kleid.

Text Authorship:

  • by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875), "Citronenfalter im April", first published 1873

See other settings of this text.

Note: "Citronenfalter" is an older spelling of "Zitronenfalter"
by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
18.
Language: English 
Cruel springtime sun,
You awaken me prematurely --
Me, for whom only in May
Grows the delicate food on which I live!
If there is no dear girl here
Who will offer me
A drop of honey on her rosy lips,
Then I must perish in misery,
And May will never behold me
In my yellow garb.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

The titles (variously spelled) may be translated "Brimstone butterfly in April"


This text was added to the website: 2016-03-15
Line count: 10
Word count: 56

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
19. Um Mitternacht
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Gelassen stieg die Nacht an's Land,
Lehnt träumend an der Berge Wand,
Ihr Auge sieht die goldne Wage nun 
Der Zeit in gleichen Schalen stille ruhn;
  Und kecker rauschen die Quellen hervor,
  Sie singen der Mutter, der Nacht, in's Ohr
    Vom Tage,
  Vom heute gewesenen Tage.

Das uralt alte Schlummerlied,
Sie achtet's nicht, sie ist es müd';
Ihr klingt des Himmels Bläue süßer noch,
Der flücht'gen Stunden gleichgeschwung'nes Joch.
  Doch immer behalten die Quellen das Wort,
  Es singen die Wasser im Schlafe noch fort
    Vom Tage, 
  Vom heute gewesenen Tage.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
19. At midnight
Language: English 
The night ascends calmly over the land,
leaning dreamily against the wall of the mountain,
its eyes now resting on the golden scales 
of time, in a similar poise of quiet peace;
and boldly murmur the springs,
singing to Mother Night, in her ear,
of the day 
that was today.

To the ancient lullaby
she pays no attention; she is weary.
To her, the blue heaven sounds sweeter,
the curved yoke of fleeing hours.
Yet the springs keep murmuring,
and the water keeps singing in slumber
of the day 
that was today.

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 of title "Um Mitternacht" = "At midnight"


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 92

Translation © by Emily Ezust
20. Auf eine Christblume I
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Tochter des Walds, du Lilienverwandte,
So lang von mir gesuchte, unbekannte,
Im fremden Kirchhof, öd' und winterlich,
Zum ersten Mal, o schöne, find' ich dich!

Von welcher Hand gepflegt du hier erblühtest,
Ich weiß es nicht, noch wessen Grab du hütest;
Ist es ein Jüngling, so geschah ihm Heil,
Ist's eine Jungfrau, lieblich fiel ihr Theil.

Im nächt'gen Hain, von Schneelicht überbreitet,
Wo fromm das Reh an dir vorüber weidet,
Bei der Kapelle, am krystall'nen Teich,
Dort sucht' ich deiner Heimat Zauberreich.

Schön bist du, Kind des Mondes, nicht der Sonne;
Dir wäre tödtlich andrer Blumen Wonne,
Dich nährt, den keuschen Leib voll Reif und Duft,
Himmlischer Kälte balsamsüße Luft.

In deines Busens goldner Fülle gründet
Ein Wohlgeruch, der sich nur kaum verkündet;
So duftete, berührt von Engelshand,
Der benedeiten Mutter Brautgewand.

Dich würden, mahnend an das heil'ge Leiden,
Fünf Purpurtropfen schön und einzig kleiden:
Doch kindlich zierst du, um die Weihnachtszeit,
Lichtgrün mit einem Hauch dein weißes Kleid.

Der Elfe, der in mitternächt'ger Stunde
Zum Tanze geht im lichterhellen Grunde, 
Vor deiner mystischen Glorie steht er scheu 
Neugierig still von fern und huscht vorbei.

Text Authorship:

Go to the general single-text view

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
20. To a christmas rose (a hellebore)
Language: English 
Daughter of the forest, relative of the lily,
I have looked for you for so long, unknown,
and it is in a foreign churchyard, bleak and wintery,
that I have found you, o beauty, for the first time.

Whose caring hand it is that has allowed you to bloom
I don't know. Nor do I know whose grave you are protecting.
If it is a boy's, he has found salvation,
if it is a girl's, her fate was lovely.

It was in a grove at night, covered with light from the snow,
where the gentle deer grazed around you,
by the chapel, next to a crystal pond,
that I looked for your homeland, your magic kingdom.

You are beautiful. You are a child of the moon, not the sun.
What for other flowers brings joy would be deadly for you.
Your chaste body, all frost and scent, is nourished by
the balsam sweet air of heavenly cold.

From the golden fullness of your breast arises
a wonderful fragrance, which barely announces itself.
It recalls the scent, touched by an angel's hand,
of the holy mother's bridal gown.

What would suit you, in memory of the holy passion,
would be five purple drops as your sole beautifying ornament,
but you are childlike in decorating yourself at Christmas time
in a white dress with a hint of light green.

The elf, at midnight,
on his way to dance in a bright clearing,
comes to a standstill before your mystical glory;
he looks at you, fascinated, from afar, and then runs off.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 28
Word count: 259

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
21. Auf eine Christblume II
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Im Winterboden schläft ein Blumenkeim,
Der Schmetterling, der einst um Busch und Hügel
In Frühlingsnächten wiegt den sammt'nen Flügel;
Nie soll er kosten deinen Honigseim.

Wer aber weiß, ob nicht sein zarter Geist,
Wenn jede Zier des Sommers hingesunken,
Dereinst, von deinem leisen Dufte trunken,
Mir unsichtbar, dich blühende umkreist?

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
21. To a Christmas rose II
Language: English 
A flower's germ sleeps in the winter soil,
The butterfly that, round bush and hill,
Will sway its velvety wings in spring nights;
It shall never taste your nectar.   

Who ever knows, if its delicate spirit,
After the summer's beauty has swooned,
Will not one day, drunk with your soft scent,
Invisible to me, circle around you in bloom.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2004 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:

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2004-09-29
Line count: 8
Word count: 59

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann
22. Seufzer
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Dein Liebesfeuer, 
Ach Herr! wie teuer
Wollt' ich es hegen,
Wollt' ich es pflegen! 
Hab's nicht geheget,
Und nicht gepfleget,
Bin tot im Herzen --
O Höllenschmerzen!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Eduard Mörike, Gedichte, Dramatisches, Erzählendes, Zweite, erweiterte Auflage, Stuttgart: J.G. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung Nachf., 1961, page 133-134.

Note: the poem is preceded by the Latin inscription 

 Jesu benigne!
 A cuius igne
 Opto flagrare
 Et Te amare:
 Cur non flagravi?
 Cur non amavi
 Te, Jesu Christe?
 - O frigus triste!


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
22. Sigh
Language: English 
The fire of your love
Oh Lord, how dearly I wanted
to kindle it
and to keep it burning.
I didn't kindle it
I didn't keep it burning,
I am dead in my heart.
Oh pains of hell!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 8
Word count: 38

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
23. Auf ein altes Bild
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
In grüner Landschaft Sommerflor,
Bei kühlem Wasser, Schilf, und Rohr,
Schau, wie das Knäblein Sündelos
Frei spielet auf der Jungfrau Schoß!
Und dort im Walde wonnesam,
Ach, grünet schon des Kreuzes Stamm!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard, Werke, Herausgegeben von Hannsludwig Geiger, Sonderausgabe der Tempel-Klassiker, Emil Vollmer Verlag, Wiesbaden, p. 106.


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
23. To an old picture
Language: English 
In the green landscape of a blossoming summer,
Beside cool water, reeds, and canes,
Behold, how the sinless child
Plays freely on the virgin's knee.
And there, in the woods, blissfully,
Alas, growing already is the stem that will become the cross.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Paul Hindemith, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 6
Word count: 42

Translation © by Paul Hindemith
24. In der Frühe
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Kein Schlaf noch kühlt das Auge mir,
Dort gehet schon der Tag herfür
An meinem Kammerfenster.
Es wühlet mein verstörter Sinn
Noch zwischen Zweifeln her und hin
Und schaffet Nachtgespenster.
-- Ängste, quäle
Dich nicht länger, meine Seele!
Freu' dich! Schon sind da und dorten
Morgenglocken wach geworden.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
24. In the early hours
Language: English 
 No sleep yet cools my eyes;
 day is already beginning
 outside my chamber window.
 My troubled senses rummage still
 here and there among my doubts,
 creating nightly visions.
 Frighten and torment yourself
 no longer, my soul!
 Be happy! Already, here and there,
 morning bells are awakening.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 10
Word count: 47

Translation © by Emily Ezust
25. Schlafendes Jesuskind
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Sohn der Jungfrau, Himmelskind! am Boden
Auf dem Holz der Schmerzen eingeschlafen,
Das der fromme Meister, sinnvoll spielend,
Deinen leichten Träumen unterlegte;
Blume du, noch in der Knospe dämmernd
Eingehüllt die Herrlichkeit des Vaters!
O wer sehen könnte, welche Bilder
Hinter dieser Stirne, diesen schwarzen
Wimpern sich in sanftem Wechsel malen!

Text Authorship:

  • by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875), "Schlafendes Jesuskind, gemalt von Franc. Albani"

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard. Gedichte, Dramatisches, Erzählendes, Stuttgart: J.G. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung, Nachf., 1961, page 127.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
25. The sleeping Christchild
Language: English 
Son of the Virgin, child of Heaven, on the ground
Upon the wood of suffering Thou hast fallen asleep,
[The wood] that the pious master, meaningfully playful,
Has placed under Thy light dreams;
Flower Thou, still only encompassing
Half-lit in the bud the glory of the Father!
Oh could one see what images
Behind this brow, behind these black
Lashes, are painted in gentle alternation!

Text Authorship:

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

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

Translated titles:
"Schlafendes Jesuskind, gemalt von Franc. Albani" = "The sleeping Christchild painted by Franc. Albani"
"Schlafendes Jesuskind" = "The sleeping Christchild"


This text was added to the website: 2016-03-06
Line count: 9
Word count: 65

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
26. Karwoche
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
O Woche, Zeugin heiliger Beschwerde!
Du stimmst so ernst zu dieser Frühlingswonne,
Du breitest im verjüngten Strahl der Sonne
Des Kreuzes Schatten auf die lichte Erde,

Und senkest schweigend deine Flöre nieder;
Der Frühling darf indessen immer keimen,
Das Veilchen duftet unter Blütenbäumen
Und alle Vöglein singen Jubellieder.

O schweigt, ihr Vöglein auf den grünen Auen!
Es hallen rings die dumpfen Glockenklänge,
Die Engel singen leise Grabgesänge;
O still, ihr Vöglein hoch im Himmelblauen!

Ihr Veilchen, kränzt heut keine Lockenhaare!
Euch pflückt mein frommes Kind zum dunklen Strausse,
Ihr wandert mit zum Muttergotteshause, 
Da sollt ihr welken auf des Herrn Altare.

Ach dort, von Trauermelodieen trunken,
Und süß betäubt von schweren Weihrauchdüften,
Sucht sie den Bräutigam in Todesgrüften,
Und Lieb' und Frühling, Alles ist versunken!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard, Werke, Herausgegeben von Hannsludwig Geiger, Sonderausgabe der Tempel-Klassiker, Emil Vollmer Verlag, Wiesbaden, p. 85.


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
26. Holy week
Language: English 
Oh week, witness of the holy passion!
You sound so serious in the joy of this spring,
into the renewed rays of the sun you spread
the shadow of the cross over the illuminated earth

and silently lay down your veil;
meanwhile spring is allowed to continue its bursting forth,
the violet gives off its scent under the blossoming trees
and all the birds sing songs of jubilation.

Oh be quiet, you birds on the green meadows!
The muffled bells resound,
the angels are singing soft funeral songs:
be still you birds up in the blue sky!

You violets, do not adorn any hair today!
My pious child is picking you for a dark wreath,
you will go with her to the house of the mother of God
where you will wither on the Lord's altar.

Oh there, drunk with mournful melodies,
and sweetly sprinkled with the heavy scent of incense,
she is seeking her bridegroom in the grave vaults,
and love, and spring, everything is submerged!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 20
Word count: 167

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
27. Zum neuen Jahr
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Wie heimlicher Weise
Ein Engelein leise
Mit rosigen Füßen
Die Erde betritt,
So nahte der Morgen.
Jauchzt ihm, ihr Frommen,
Ein heilig Willkommen,
Ein heilig Willkommen!
Herz, jauchze du mit!
 
In Ihm sei's begonnen,
Der Monde und Sonnen
An blauen Gezelten
Des Himmels bewegt.
Du, Vater, du rate!
Lenke du und wende!
Herr, dir in die Hände
Sei Anfang und Ende,
Sei alles gelegt!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
27. To the new year
Language: English 
So quietly, lowly
Like angels that slowly
Aurorally wingèd
Set foot on the earth,
Thus morning drew nearer.
Welcome godfearing
With joy its appearing!
Its holy appearing,
Heart, welcome with mirth!
                           
In Him all beginning
Who reigns, ever spinning,
The moons', suns' and planets'
Celestial parade.
You, Father, you counsel!
Be guide and defence!
Lord, into Thy hands
Beginning and end,
The whole world be laid.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2004 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:

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2004-09-29
Line count: 18
Word count: 66

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann
28. Gebet
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Herr! schicke, was du willt,
Ein Liebes oder Leides;
Ich bin vergnügt, daß beides
Aus deinen Händen quillt.

Wollest mit Freuden 
Und wollest mit Leiden
Mich nicht überschütten!
Doch in der Mitten,
Liegt holdes Bescheiden.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
28. Prayer
Language: English 
Lord, send what You will,
love or sorrow;
I am content that both
spring from Your hands.

But may you wish with neither joy 
nor sorrow
to overwhelm me!
For in the middle
lies modest contentment.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 9
Word count: 36

Translation © by Emily Ezust
29. An den Schlaf
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Schlaf! süßer Schlaf! obwohl dem Tod wie du nichts gleicht,
auf diesem Lager doch willkommen heiß' ich dich!
Denn ohne Leben so, wie lieblich lebt es sich!
So weit vom Sterben, ach, wie stirbt es sich so leicht!

Text Authorship:

Based on:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
29. To Sleep
Language: English 
 Sleep! Sweet Sleep! although, next do death, there is nothing that so much resembles you,
 on this couch I proclaim you welcome!
 For without life so, how lovely it is to live!
 So far from dying, ah! how easy it is to die!

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:

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 4
Word count: 44

Translation © by Emily Ezust
30. Neue Liebe
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Kann auch ein Mensch des andern auf der Erde
Ganz wie er möchte, sein?
-- In langer Nacht bedacht' ich mir's, und mußte sagen, nein!
 
So kann ich niemands heißen auf der Erde,
Und niemand wäre mein?
-- Aus Finsternißen hell in mir aufzückt ein Freudenschein:
 
Sollt' ich mit Gott nicht können sein,
So wie ich möchte, Mein und Dein?
Was hielte mich, daß ich's nicht heute werde?
 
Ein süßes Schrecken geht durch mein Gebein!
Mich wundert, daß es mir ein Wunder wollte sein,
Gott selbst zu eigen haben auf der Erde!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Eduard Mörike, Gedichte Dramatisches Erzählendes, Stuttgart: J.G. Cotta’sche Buchhandlung Nachf., 1961, pages 132-133


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
30. New love
Language: English 
Can a human then upon this earth belong
As utterly as he would wish to another?
-- In the long night I pondered it, and had to answer, no!
 
Thus I cannot be said to belong to anyone,
And no one can belong to me?
-- From the darknesses within me there brightly flashes a radiance of joy:
 
Is it not possible for me to be with God
Just as I wish, mine and thine?
What would prevent from becoming so today?
 
A sweet startlement passes through my bones!
I am astounded that this should have seemed to me a miracle --
To have God Himself as my own here upon earth!

Text Authorship:

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

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2016-02-09
Line count: 12
Word count: 109

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
31. Wo find' ich Trost
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Eine Liebe kenn ich, die ist treu, 
War getreu, solang ich sie gefunden,
Hat mit tiefem Seufzen immer neu,
Stets versöhnlich, sich mit mir verbunden.

Welcher einst mit himmlischem Gedulden
Bitter bittern Todestropfen trank,
Hing am Kreuz und büßte mein Verschulden,
Bis es in ein Meer von Gnade sank.

Und was ist's nun, daß ich traurig bin,
Daß ich angstvoll mich am Boden winde?
Frage: Hüter, ist die Nacht bald hin?
Und: was rettet mich von Tod und Sünde?

Arges Herze! Ja gesteh' es nur,
Du hast wieder böse Lust empfangen;
Frommer Liebe, frommer Treue Spur,
Ach, das ist auf lange nun vergangen.

Ja, daß ist's auch, daß ich traurig bin,
Daß ich angstvoll mich am Boden winde!
Hüter, Hüter, ist die Nacht bald hin?
Und was rettet mich von Tod und Sünde?

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
31. Where do I find comfort
Language: English 
One love I know that is faithful,
That has been faithful through all the time since I found it,
That with deep sighs has ever anew,
Always forgivingly, allied itself to me.
 
He, who once with heavenly patience,
Drank the bitter, bitter drops of death,
Hung upon the cross and atoned for my transgressions
Until they sank into a sea of mercy.
 
And what is happening now, why I am sad?
Why do I anxiously writhe upon the ground?
Asking:  Watchman, is the night soon over?
And:  What shall save me from death and sin?
 
Erring heart!  Yes, only admit it,
You have again conceived evil passions;
Pious love, the track of pious faithfulness,
Ah, those have been gone for a long while now.
 
Yes, that is why then that I am saddened,
That I anxiously writhe upon the ground!
Watchman, watchman is the night soon over?
And what shall save me from death and sin?

Text Authorship:

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

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2016-02-01
Line count: 20
Word count: 156

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
32. An die Geliebte
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Wenn ich, von deinem Anschaun tief gestillt,
Mich stumm an deinem heilgen Wert vergnüge,
Dann hör ich recht die leisen Atemzüge
Des Engels, welcher sich in dir verhüllt.

Und ein erstaunt, ein fragend Lächeln quillt
Auf meinem Mund, ob mich kein Traum betrüge,
Daß nun in dir, zu ewiger Genüge,
Mein kühnster Wunsch, mein einzger, sich erfüllt?

Von Tiefe dann zu Tiefen stürzt mein Sinn,
Ich höre aus der Gottheit nächtger Ferne
Die Quellen des Geschicks melodisch rauschen.

Betäubt kehr ich den Blick nach oben hin,
Zum Himmel auf - da lächeln alle Sterne;
Ich knie, ihrem Lichtgesang zu lauschen.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
32. To the beloved
Language: English 
When, from the deep calm I feel at seeing your image,
I mutely take delight in your high worth,
then I properly hear the gentle breathing
of the angel that is disguised within you.

And an astounded, questioning smile springs
to my lips, as I wonder: isn't it a deceiving dream,
that now, in you, to my eternal pleasure,
my boldest wish - my only wish - is fulfilled?

To the depths then to the depths my senses fall;
I hear in the nocturnal distance of divinity
the melodious roaring of the stream of fate.

Dazed, I turn my eyes then upwards,
toward the heavens, and there all the stars are smiling;
I kneel to listen to their song of light.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 119

Translation © by Emily Ezust
33. Peregrina I
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Der Spiegel dieser treuen, braunen Augen
Ist wie von innerm Gold ein Wiederschein;
Tief aus dem Busen scheint er's anzusaugen,
Dort mag solch Gold in heil'gem Gram gedeihn.
In diese Nacht des Blickes mich zu tauchen,
Unwissend Kind, du selber lädst mich ein --
Willst, ich soll kecklich mich und dich entzünden,
Reichst lächelnd mir den Tod im Kelch der Sünden!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard Friedrich. Gesammelte Schriften, Erster Band, G. J. Göschen'sche Verlagshandlung, 1878, page 133.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
33. Peregrina I
Language: English 
The mirror of these faithful, brown eyes
is like a reflection of inner gold;
from deep within the bosom it seems to be drawn; 
there may such gold thrive in sacred grief.
To plunge myself into the darkness of this gaze,
naive child, you yourself beckon me -
you will me to boldy ignite us both,
with a smile, handing me Death in a goblet of sin!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 66

Translation © by Emily Ezust
34. Peregrina II
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Warum, Geliebte, denk' ich dein
Auf Einmal nun mit tausend Thränen,
Und kann gar nicht zufrieden sein,
Und will die Brust in alle Weite dehnen?
Ach, gestern in den hellen Kindersaal,
Bei'm Flimmer zierlich aufgesteckter Kerzen,
Wo ich mein selbst vergaß in Lärm und Scherzen,
Tratst du, o Bildniß mitleid-schöner Qual;
Es war dein Geist, er setzte sich an's Mahl,
Fremd saßen wir mit stumm verhalt'nen Schmerzen;
Zuletzt brach ich in lautes Schluchzen aus,
Und Hand in Hand verließen wir das Haus.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard Friedrich. Gesammelte Schriften, Erster Band, G. J. Göschen'sche Verlagshandlung, 1878, pages 136-137.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
34. Peregrina II
Language: English 
Why, my love, do I think of you
all of a sudden, with a thousand tears,
and cannot be content at all,
and wish my heart could stretch in every direction?
Ah, yesterday in the bright nursery,
by the dainty glimmer of festive candles,
when I forgot myself amid the noise and foolery,
you came, o image of compassionate agony;
it was your ghost who sat at table -
like strangers we sat with silent, repressed sorrow;
at last I broke into loud sobs,
and hand in hand we left the house.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 91

Translation © by Emily Ezust
35. Frage und Antwort
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Fragst du mich, woher die bange
Liebe mir zum Herzen kam,
Und warum ich ihr nicht lange
Schon den bittern Stachel nahm?

Sprich, warum mit Geisterschnelle
Wohl der Wind die Flügel rührt,
Und woher die süße Quelle
Die verborgnen Wasser führt?

Banne du auf seiner Fährte
Mir den Wind in vollem Lauf!
Halte mit der Zaubergerte
Du die süßen Quellen auf!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
35. Question and answer
Language: English 
Do you ask me from whence came this fearsome
love into my heart,
and why I accepted from her the bitter sting
shortly afterward?
 
Tell me, why with ghostly swiftness
does the wind bear up wings,
and from whence does the sweet spring
obtains the hidden water?
 
Forbid, for me, on his travels
the wind at full speed!
Halt with your magic twig
the sweet spring's flow!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Charles James Pearson, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 67

Translation © by Charles James Pearson
36. Lebe wohl
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
«Lebe wohl!» - Du fühlest nicht,
Was es heißt, dies Wort der Schmerzen;
Mit getrostem Angesicht
Sagtest du's und leichtem Herzen.

Lebe wohl! - Ach, tausendmal
Hab' ich mir es vorgesprochen.
Und in nimmersatter Qual
Mir das Herz damit gebrochen.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
36. Farewell
Language: English 
Farewell! you feel not
what this means - this word of pain;
with a confident face
you said it, and with a light heart.
 
Farewell! Alas! a thousand times
I have pronounced it to myself,
and with insatiable torment,
broken my own heart with it!

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

Translations of titles
"Lebe wohl" = "Farewell"
"Lebewohl" = "Farewell"



This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 44

Translation © by Emily Ezust
37. Heimweh
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Anders wird die Welt mit jedem Schritt,
Den ich weiter von der Liebsten mache;
Mein Herz, das will nicht weiter mit.
Hier scheint die Sonne kalt in's Land,
Hier däucht mir Alles unbekannt,
Sogar die Blumen am Bache!
Hat jede Sache 
So fremd eine Miene, so falsch ein Gesicht.
Das Bächlein murmelt wohl und spricht:
Armer Knabe, komm bei mir vorüber,
Siehst auch hier Vergißmeinnicht!
-- Ja, die sind schön an jedem Ort,
Aber nicht wie dort.
Fort, nur fort!
Die Augen gehn mir über!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
37. Homesickness
Language: English 
The world becomes different with every step
that takes me farther away from my beloved;
my heart -- it will not go any farther with me.
Here the sun shines coldly upon the land,
here everything seems unfamiliar to me,
even the very flowers along the stream! 
Every thing has
So strange a look, so wrong a face.
The streamlet murmurs well and speaks:
"Poor boy, come along beside me -
you see forget-me-nots here as well!"
Yes, they are beautiful everywhere,
but these are not anything like the ones there.
Onward, simply onward!
My eyes spill over.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2005 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


This text was added to the website: 2005-09-05
Line count: 15
Word count: 97

Translation © by Emily Ezust
38. Lied vom Winde
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Sausewind, Brausewind,
Dort und hier!
Deine Heimat sage mir!
 
"Kindlein, wir fahren
Seit viel vielen Jahren
Durch die weit weite Welt,
Und möchten's erfragen,
Die Antwort erjagen,
Bei den Bergen, den Meeren,
Bei des Himmels klingenden Heeren:
Die wissen es nie.
Bist du klüger als sie,
Magst du es sagen.
-- Fort, wohlauf!
Halt uns nicht auf!
Kommen andre nach, unsre Brüder,
Da frag wieder!"
 
Halt an! Gemach,
Eine kleine Frist!
Sagt, wo der Liebe Heimat ist,
Ihr Anfang, ihr Ende?
 
"Wer's nennen könnte!
Schelmisches Kind,
Lieb' ist wie Wind,
Rasch und lebendig,
Ruhet nie,
Ewig ist sie,
Aber nicht immer beständig.
-- Fort! Wohlauf! auf!
Halt uns nicht auf!
Fort über Stoppel und Wälder und Wiesen!
Wenn ich dein Schätzchen seh',
Will ich es grüßen.
Kindlein, ade!"

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
38. Song of Wind
Language: English 
Rushing wind, roaring wind
There and here!
Tell me where is your homeland!
 
"Little child, we’ve been travelling
For many, many years already
Through the [wide, wide]1 world,
And want to ask [about our homeland],
Want to hunt down the answer
From the mountains, the oceans,
From the ringing hosts of heaven:
They never know.
If you are more clever than they,
Then you may tell us.
-- Away, we’re off!
Do not detain us!
When others come after us, our brethren,
Then ask again!"
 
Stop! Take your leisure
For a moment!
Tell me, where is the homeland of love,
Its beginning, its end?
 
"Who could tell that!
Mischievous child!"
Love is [like the]1 wind,
Quick and lively,
Never resting,
It is eternal,
But not always constant.
-- [Away, we’re off!
Do not detain us!
Away over stubble and forests and meadows!]1
When I see your darling,
I shall greet him.
Child, adieu!"

Text Authorship:

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

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

View original text (without footnotes)

Translated titles:
"Lied vom Winde" = "Song of Wind"
"Sausewind, Brausewind" = "Rushing wind, roaring wind"

1 omitted by Ostrzyga.


This text was added to the website: 2016-01-11
Line count: 34
Word count: 154

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
39. Denk' es, o Seele!
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Ein Tännlein grünet, wo,
Wer weiß, im Walde,
Ein Rosenstrauch, wer sagt,
In welchem Garten?
Sie sind erlesen schon,
Denk' es, o Seele!
Auf deinem Grab zu wurzeln
Und zu wachsen.

Zwei schwarze Rößlein weiden
Auf der Wiese,
Sie kehren heim zur Stadt
In muntern Sprüngen.
Sie werden schrittweis gehn
Mit deiner Leiche;
Vielleicht, vielleicht noch eh'
An ihren Hufen
Das Eisen los wird,
Das ich blitzen sehe!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
39. A little fir-tree flourishes
Language: English 
A little fir-tree flourishes,
who knows where, in the wood;
A rosebush, who can tell
in what garden?
They are selected already,
Consider, o soul,
to take root and grow
on your grave.

Two young black horses graze
on the pasture,
they return back to town
with lively leaps.
They will go step by step
with your corpse;
perhaps, perhaps even before
on their hooves
the shoe gets loose,
and I can see it sparkle.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Jakob Kellner, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 75

Translation © by Jakob Kellner
40. Der Jäger
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Drei Tage Regen fort und fort,
Kein Sonnenschein zur Stunde;
Drei Tage lang kein gutes Wort
Aus meiner Liebsten Munde!

Sie trutzt mit mir und ich mit ihr,
So hat sie's haben wollen;
Mir aber nagt's am Herzen hier,
Das Schmollen und das Grollen.

Willkommen denn, des Jägers Lust,
Gewittersturm und Regen!
Fest zugeknöpft die heiße Brust,
Und jauchzend euch entgegen!

Nun sitzt sie wohl daheim und lacht
Und scherzt mit den Geschwistern;
Ich höre in des Waldes Nacht
Die alten Blätter flüstern.

Nun sitzt sie wohl und weinet laut
Im Kämmerlein, in Sorgen;
Mir ist es wie dem Wilde traut,
In Finsterniß geborgen.

Kein Hirsch und Rehlein überall!
Ein Schuß zum Zeit vertreibe!
Gesunder Knall und Wiederhall
Erfrischt das Mark im Leibe. --

Doch wie der Donner nun verhallt
In Tälern, durch die Runde,
Ein plötzlich Weh mich überwallt,
Mir sinkt das Herz zu Grunde.

Sie trutzt mit mir und ich mit ihr,
So hat sie's haben wollen,
Mir aber frißt's am Herzen hier,
Das Schmollen und das Grollen.

Und auf! und nach der Liebsten Haus!
Und sie gefaßt um's Mieder!
"Drück' mir die naßen Locken aus,
und küß' und hab' mich wieder!"

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
40. The hunter
Language: English 
Three days of non-stop rain,
No sunshine as yet:
Three whole days without a good word
From my love's mouth.

She defied me and I her;
Which is just what she wanted.
It's gnawing at my heart
all this sulking and grumbling.

So welcome to the joy of the hunt
to thunderstorms and to rain!
My hot breast is well wrapped up
ready to exult in taking you on!

Now she'll be sitting at home laughing
and joking with her brothers and sisters;
but I am in the woods at night listening to
the whispers of the old leaves.

Now she'll be sitting and crying her eyes out.
She'll be in her little room with her cares;
but I am cosy like a wild animal
hidden in the darkness.

There is no stag or fawn anywhere.
A shot to kill time.
A healthy bang and an echo
refreshes you deep down inside the body.

But as the thunder dies away
in the valleys and all around
a sudden pain overwhelms me,
my heart sinks to the depths.

She defied me and I her;
Which is just what she wanted.
It's eating into my heart
all this sulking and grumbling.

So, get up! To my love's house
to put my arms round her waist,
"Dry my wet locks,
Kiss me and take me back!"

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 36
Word count: 223

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
41. Rat einer Alten
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Bin jung gewesen, 
Kann auch mit reden,
Und alt geworden, 
Drum gilt mein Wort.

Schön reife Beeren 
Am Bäumchen hangen:
Nachbar, da hilft kein 
Zaun um den Garten;
Lustige Vögel 
Wissen den Weg.

Aber, mein Dirnchen,
Du laß dir rathen:
Halte dein Schätzchen
Wohl in der Liebe,
Wohl in Respekt!
Mit den zwei Fädlein
In Eins gedrehet,
Ziehst du am kleinen 
Finger ihn nach.

Aufrichtig Herze,
Doch schweigen können,
Früh mit der Sonne
Muthig zur Arbeit,
Gesunde Glieder,
Saubere Linnen,
Das machet Mädchen
Und Weibchen werth.

Bin jung gewesen,
Kann auch mit reden,
Und alt geworden, 
Drum gilt mein Wort.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
41. The advice of an old woman
Language: English 
I was young once, 
and can also put in a word,
and now I've become old, 
so my words are important.

Fair ripe berries 
hang from the tree:
neighbors, it does not help 
to put a fence around the garden,
for merry birds 
will know the way.

Yet, my young lady, 
take my advice:
hold your sweetheart 
well in love,
well in respect!
With these two little threads 
spun into one,
you will lead him 
by one little finger.

Sincere of heart, 
yet able to keep quiet,
awake with the sun 
and merry at work,
with healthy limbs 
and clean linen -
this makes a maiden 
and a wife of worth.

I was young once, 
and can also put in a word,
and now I've become old, 
so my words are important.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 31
Word count: 131

Translation © by Emily Ezust
42. Erstes Liebeslied eines Mädchens
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Was im Netze? Schau einmal!
Aber ich bin bange;
Greif' ich einen süßen Aal?
Greif' ich eine Schlange?

Lieb' is blinde
Fischerin;
Sagt dem Kinde,
Wo greift's hin?

Schon schnellt mir's in Händen!
Ach Jammer! O Lust!
Mit Schmiegen und Wenden
Mir schlüpft's an die Brust.

Es beißt sich, o Wunder!
Mir keck durch die Haut,
Schießt's Herze hinunter!
O Liebe, mir graut!

Was tun, was beginnen?
Das schaurige Ding,
Es schnalzet dadrinnen, 
Es legt sich im Ring.

Gift muß ich haben!
Hier schleicht es herum,
Tut wonniglich graben
Und bringt mich noch um!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
42.
Language: English 
Is there something in the net?  Let’s take a look!
But I am frightened;
Have I caught a sweet eel?
Have I caught a snake?
 
Love is a blind
Fisher-maiden;
Tell the child --
What has she grasped?
 
Already it's flipping in my hands.
Oh misery!  Oh joy!
With snuggling and writhing
It slips to my breast.
 
It bites, oh what a marvel!
Its way boldly through my skin
And shoots down to my heart!
Oh, Love, I am terrified!
 
What to do, how to begin?
The horrible thing,
It is flicking inside,
It is coiling itself into a ring.
 
I must have poison;
Here it is slinking about,
It is blissfully burrowing
And will kill me yet!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view

Translated titles:
"Erstes Liebeslied eines Mädchens" = "First love-song of a maiden"
"Liebeslied eines Mädchens" = "Love-song of a maiden"


This text was added to the website: 2016-03-04
Line count: 24
Word count: 117

Translation © by Sharon Krebs
43. Lied eines Verliebten
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
In aller Früh, ach, lang vor Tag,
Weckt mich mein Herz, an dich zu denken,
Da doch gesunde Jugend schlafen mag.

Hell ist mein Aug' um Mitternacht,
Heller als frühe Morgenglocken:
Wann hätt'st du je am Tage mein gedacht?

Wär' ich ein Fischer, stünd' ich auf,
Trüge mein Netz hinab zum Flusse,
Trüg' herzlich froh die Fische zum Verkauf.

In der Mühle, bei Licht, der Müllerknecht
Tummelt sich, alle Gänge klappern;
So rüstig Treiben wär' mir eben recht!

Weh, aber ich! o armer Tropf!
Muß auf dem Lager mich müßig grämen,
Ein ungebärdig Mutterkind im Kopf.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
43. Song of one in love
Language: English 
 At the earliest, oh long before daylight,
 my heart awoke to think of you,
 since only a healthy youth may sleep.
 
 My eye is clear at midnight,
 clearer than at the early morning bells:
 When did you think of me?
 
 Were I a fisherman, I'd get up,
 carry my net down to the river,
 carry happily the fish to sell.
 
 In the mill, by a light, the miller's man
 bestirs himself, all the gears clatter
 such vigorous activity would be just right for me!
 
 But poor me!  Poor devil!
 I must make my bed in idle misery,
 feeling like an unruly mama's boy!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Charles James Pearson, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2003-10-22
Line count: 15
Word count: 104

Translation © by Charles James Pearson
44. Der Feuerreiter
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Sehet ihr am Fensterlein
Dort die rote Mütze wieder?
Nicht geheuer muß es sein,
Denn er geht schon auf und nieder.
Und auf einmal welch Gewühle
Bei der Brücke nach dem Feld!
Horch! das Feuerglöcklein gellt:
Hinterm Berg,
Hinterm Berg
Brennt es in der Mühle!

Schaut, da sprengt er wütend schier
Durch das Tor, der Feuerreiter,
Auf dem rippendürren Tier,
Als auf einer Feuerleiter!
Querfeldein, durch Qualm und Schwüle,
Rennt er schon und ist am Ort!
Drüben schallt es fort und fort:
Hinterm Berg, 
Hinterm Berg,
Brennt es in der Mühle!

Der so oft den roten Hahn
Meilenweit von fern gerochen,
Mit des heil'gen Kreuzes Span
Freventlich die Glut besprochen -
Weh! dir grinst vom Dachgestühle
Dort der Feind im Höllenschein.
Gnade Gott der Seele dein!
Hinterm Berg, 
Hinterm Berg,
Rast er in der Mühle!

Keine Stunde hielt es an,
Bis die Mühle borst in Trümmer;
Doch den kecken Reitersmann
Sah man von der Stunde nimmer.
Volk und Wagen im Gewühle
Kehren heim von all dem Graus;
Auch das Glöcklein klinget aus:
Hinterm Berg, 
Hinterm Berg,
Brennt's! -

Nach der Zeit ein Müller fand
Ein Gerippe samt der Mützen
Aufrecht an der Kellerwand
Auf der beinern Mähre sitzen:
Feuerreiter, wie so kühle
Reitest du in deinem Grab!
Husch! da fällt's in Asche ab.
Ruhe wohl,
Ruhe wohl
Drunten in der Mühle!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
44. The Fire-Rider
Language: English 
Do you see at the window
there again, that red cap?
Something must be the matter
for it is going up and down.
And what a sudden mob
is now by the bridge near the field!
Hark! the fire-bell is shrilling:
beyond the hill,
beyond the hill,
there's a fire in the mill!

Look, there he goes, galloping furiously
through the gate - it's the fire-rider
on his horse, a bony nag
like a fire-ladder!
Across the fields, through the smoke and heat
he plunges, and he's already reached his goal!
Over there the bells are pealing,
beyond the hill,
beyond the hill,
there's a fire in the mill!

You who so often smelled fire
from a mile off,
and with a fragment of the holy cross
maliciously conjured the blaze -
woe! from the rafters there grins
the Enemy of Man in hellish light.
May God have mercy on your soul!
Beyond the hill,
beyond the hill,
he is raging in the mill!

Not an hour had passed
before the mill was reduced to rubble;
but the bold rider
from that hour was never seen again.
People and wagons in crowds
turn toward home away from all the horror;
and the bell stops ringing:
beyond the hill,
beyond the hill,
it's burning!

Later a miller found
a skeleton together with the cap
upright against the wall of the cellar
sitting on the mare of bone:
Fire-rider, how coolly
you ride now to your grave!
Hush! there it falls to ashes.
Rest well,
rest well,
down there in the mill!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 50
Word count: 258

Translation © by Emily Ezust
45. Nixe Binsefuß
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Des Wassermanns sein Töchterlein
Tanzt auf dem Eis im Vollmondschein,
Sie singt und lachet sonder Scheu
Wohl an des Fischers Haus vorbei.

»Ich bin die Jungfer Binsefuß,
Und meine Fisch' wohl hüten muß,
Meine Fisch' die sind im Kasten, 
Sie haben kalte Fasten;
Von Böhmerglas mein Kasten ist, 
Da zähl' ich sie zu jeder Frist.

Gelt, Fischermatz? gelt, alter Tropf,
Dir will der Winter nicht in Kopf?
Komm mir mit deinen Netzen!
Die will ich schön zerfetzen!
Dein Mägdlein zwar ist fromm und gut,
Ihr Schatz ein braves Jägerblut.

Drum häng' ich ihr, zum Hochzeitsstrauß,
Ein schilfen Kränzlein vor das Haus,
Und einen Hecht, von Silber schwer,
Er stammt von König Artus her,
Ein Zwergen-Goldschmids-Meisterstück,
Wer's hat, dem bringt es eitel Glück:
Er läßt sich schuppen Jahr für Jahr,
Da sind's fünfhundert Gröschlein baar.

Ade, mein Kind! Ade für heut!
Der Morgenhahn im Dorfe schreit.«

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
45. The mermaid Rushfoot
Language: English 
The daughter of the water spirit
Danced on the ice in the full moon,
She laughed unabashedly, 
passing by the fisherman's house.

"I am the maiden Rushfoot, 
and I must tend my fish,
They are in a chest
with only cold meals to eat.

The chest is made of Bohemian glass, 
so I can count them anytime I want.
"Really fisher-beast, you old fool,
Can't you get into your head it's winter?

Come with your nets, 
I'll tear them to shreds!
Sure, your maiden is good and gentle, 
and her boyfriend is a brave hunter.

So I will hang a wedding bouquet 
of reeds on the house,
And a pike made of silver, 
which dates from the time of King Arthur,

A masterpiece from a dwarf-goldsmith, 
that brings luck to its keeper.
One can scale it year after year 
and get 500 Groshen.

Farewell,  my child, farewell for today.
The morning rooster is wailing in the village."

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2003 by Judith Kellock, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2004-01-26
Line count: 26
Word count: 157

Translation © by Judith Kellock
46. Gesang Weylas
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Du bist Orplid, mein Land!
Das ferne leuchtet;
Vom Meere dampfet dein besonnter Strand
Den Nebel, so der Götter Wange feuchtet.

Uralte Wasser steigen
Verjüngt um deine Hüften, Kind!
Vor deiner Gottheit beugen 
Sich Könige, die deine Wärter sind.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard, Werke, Herausgegeben von Hannsludwig Geiger, Sonderausgabe der Tempel-Klassiker, Emil Vollmer Verlag, Wiesbaden, p. 65.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
46. Weyla's song
Language: English 
 You are Orplid, my land!
 the distant gleaming;
 From the sea, your sunny shore 
 steams with mist, which moistens the cheeks of gods.
 
 Ancient waters rise
 rejuvenated about your hips, child!
 To your divinity bow
 kings, who are your attendants.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 41

Translation © by Emily Ezust
47. Die Geister am Mummelsee
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Vom Berge was kommt dort um Mitternacht spät
Mit Fackeln so prächtig herunter?
Ob das wohl zum Tanze, zum Feste noch geht?
Mir klingen die Lieder so munter.
  O nein! 
So sage, was mag es wohl sein?

Das, was du siehest, ist Totengeleit,
Und was du da hörest, sind Klagen.
Dem König, dem Zauberer, gilt es zu Leid,
Sie bringen ihn wieder getragen.
  O weh! 
So sind es die Geister vom See!

Sie schweben herunter in's Mummelseetal --
Sie haben die See schon betreten --
Sie rühren und netzen den Fuß nicht einmal --
Sie schwirren in leisen Gebeten --
  O schau' 
Am Sarge die glänzende Frau!

Jetzt öffnet der See das grünspiegelnde Tor;
Gieb Acht, nun tauchen sie nieder!
Es schwankt eine lebende Treppe hervor,
Und -- drunten schon summen die Lieder.
  Hörst du? 
Sie singen ihn unten zur Ruh'.

Die Wasser, wie lieblich sie brennen und glühn!
Sie spielen in grünendem Feuer;
Es geisten die Nebel am Ufer dahin,
Zum Meere verzieht sich der Weiher --
  Nur still!
Ob dort sich nichts rühren will?

Es zuckt in der Mitten -- o Himmel! ach hilf!
Nun kommen sie wieder, sie kommen!
Es orgelt im Rohr, und es klirret im Schilf;
Nur hurtig, die Flucht nur genommen!
  Davon!
sie wittern, sie haschen mich schon!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
47. The spirits on Lake Mummel
Language: English 
What comes from the mountain at midnight so late
And carries such glittering torches?
Perhaps they are bound for a dance or a feast?
The songs seem to ring out so joyful.
  Oh, no!
Pray tell, then, what might all this be?

What you see here is a funeral train;
The sound that you hear, lamentation.
The king, a magician, they lay him to rest,
They bring him, they carry him back.
  Oh, dear!
It must be the ghosts of the lake!

They float in the vale of the flowery lake -
Already they step on its surface -
Their feet do not stir it and never get wet -
They rustle in soft-spoken prayers -
  Oh, look!
At the coffin the luminous She!

And now the lake opens a shining green gate;
Look sharp, they are now going under!
A staircase, alive, wavers out from the depths,
And songs are soon humming beneath.
  Oh, hear!
They sing him to rest now below.

The waters, how lovely they sparkle and burn!
They sport in a green-tinted fire;
The mist, like a wraith, hovers over the shore,
The pond is changed into a sea,
  So calm!
Will nothing else stir itself there?

It shakes in the middle - dear heavens!  oh, help!
They're all coming back, they are coming!
They clank in the cattails and call in the reeds;
Now spryly take flight while you can!
  Away!
They'll scent me and snatch at me soon!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Shawn Thuris, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 36
Word count: 239

Translation © by Shawn Thuris
48. Storchenbotschaft
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Des Schäfers sein Haus und das steht auf zwei Rad,
steht hoch auf der Heiden, so frühe, wie spat;
und wenn nur ein Mancher so'n Nachtquartier hätt'!
Ein Schäfer tauscht nicht mit dem König sein Bett.

Und käm' ihm zur Nacht auch was Seltsames vor,
er betet sein Sprüchel und legt sich auf's Ohr;
ein Geistlein, ein Hexlein, so luftige Wicht',
sie klopfen ihm wohl, doch er antwortet nicht.

Einmal doch, da ward es ihm wirklich zu bunt:
es knopert am Laden, es winselt der Hund;
nun ziehet mein Schäfer den Riegel - ei schau!
da stehen zwei Störche, der Mann und die Frau.

Das Pärchen, es machet ein schön Kompliment,
es möchte gern reden, ach, wenn es nur könnt'!
Was will mir das Ziefer? ist so was erhört?
Doch ist mir wohl fröhliche Botschaft beschert.

Ihr seid wohl dahinten zu Hause am Rhein?
Ihr habt wohl mein Mädel gebissen in's Bein?
nun weinet das Kind und die Mutter noch mehr, 
sie wünschet den Herzallerliebsten sich her.

Und wünschet daneben die Taufe bestellt:
ein Lämmlein, ein Würstlein, ein Beutelein Geld?
so sagt nur, ich käm' in zwei Tag oder drei,
und grüßt mir mein Bübel und rührt ihm den Brei!

Doch halt! warum stellt ihr zu Zweien euch ein?
es werden doch, hoff' ich, nicht Zwillinge sein?
Da klappern die Störche im lustigsten Ton,
sie nicken und knixen und fliegen davon.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
48. Stork's message
Language: English 
The shepherd's house stands on two wheels -
stands high on the heath, from morning to night;
if only more people had such night lodgings!
Then a shepherd would not exchange his bed with a king.
 
And if something strange came about by night,
he would make a little prayer and lay down on his ear;
a spirit, a witch, and other such airy creatures
may knock on his door, but he will not answer.
 
But once it became just too much:
the banging on the shutter, the whining of the dog;
so my shepherd draws back the bolts - and behold!
there stand two storks, a male and a female.
 
The couple makes a nice bow
and wish to speak, alas, if only they could!
What do poultry want of me? Has anyone heard of such a thing?
Yet they bear me a joyful message.
 
You live in that house back there by the Rhine?
You have bitten my maiden in the leg?
now the child is weeping and the mother as well:
she wishes for her beloved to come home.
 
And she wishes also to arrange a baptism:
a lamb, a sausage and a purse of money?
well, tell her I'll come in two or three days,
and greet my boy and stir his porridge for me!
 
But wait! why have you both come?
but it won't, I hope, mean twins?
The storks give a great rattle with a merry sound;
they nod and bow, and fly away.

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

Notes: children were often told that a stork delivered a new baby and bit the mother (perhaps to explain why the mother had to remain in bed).In stanza 4, the archaic word "Ziefer" appears. According to Deutsches Wörterbuch von Jacob Grimm und Wilhelm Grimm, this is a word for small domestic poultry or fowl in general.


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 28
Word count: 248

Translation © by Emily Ezust
49. Zur Warnung
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Einmal nach einer lustigen Nacht
War ich am Morgen seltsam aufgewacht:
Durst, Wasserscheu, ungleich Geblüt;
Dabei gerührt und weichlich im Gemüt,
Beinah poetisch, ja, ich bat die Muse um ein Lied.
Sie, mit verstelltem Pathos, spottet' mein,
Gab mir den schnöden Bafel ein:
    "Es schlägt eine Nachtigall
    Am Wasserfall;
    Und ein Vogel ebenfalls,
    Der schreibt sich Wendehals,
    Johann Jakob Wendehals;
    Der tut tanzen
    Bei den Pflanzen
    Ob bemeldten Wasserfalls --"
So ging es fort; mir wurde immer bänger.
Jetzt sprang ich auf: zum Wein! Der war denn auch mein Retter.
-- Merkt's euch, ihr tränenreichen Sänger,
Im Katzenjammer ruft man keine Götter!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
49. As a warning
Language: English 
Once after a merry night
I was oddly awakened one morning:
thirst (but not for water), pounding blood,
feeling disturbed and sentimental;
almost poetically, yes, I begged my Muse for a song.
Pretending pathos, she mocked me,
giving me this contemptible piece of trash:
  "A nightingale is singing
  by the waterfall;
  and another bird as well,
  who signs his name Wendehals,
  Johann Jakob Wendehals;
  who dances
  by the plants
  of the aforesaid waterfall."
and so it continues, and I grew ever more anxious.
Now I sprang up: wine! That would rescue me! 
Mark you well, tearful bards,
when you have a hangover, call upon no gods!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 19
Word count: 106

Translation © by Emily Ezust
50. Auftrag
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
In poetischer Epistel
Ruft ein desperater Wicht:
Lieber Vetter! Vetter Christel!
Warum schreibt Er aber nicht?

Weiß Er doch, es lassen Herzen,
Die die Liebe angeweht,
Ganz und gar nicht mit sich scherzen,
Und nun vollends ein Poet!

Denn ich bin von dem Gelichter,
Dem der Kopf beständig voll;
Bin ich auch nur halb ein Dichter,
Bin ich doch zur Hälfte toll.

Amor hat Ihn mir verpflichtet,
Seinen Lohn weiß Er voraus,
Und der Mund, der Ihm berichtet,
Geht dabei auch leer nicht aus.

Pass' Er denn zur guten Stunde,
Wenn Sein Schatz durch's Lädchen schaut,
Lock' ihr jedes Wort vom Munde,
Das mein Schätzchen ihr vertraut.

Schreib' Er mit dann von dem Mädchen
Ein halb Dutzend Bogen voll,
Und daneben ein Tractätchen, 
Wie ich mich verhalten soll!

Text Authorship:

Go to the general single-text view

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard, Werke, Herausgegeben von Hannsludwig Geiger, Sonderausgabe der Tempel-Klassiker, Emil Vollmer Verlag, Wiesbaden, p. 191.


by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
50. Instructions
Language: English 
In a poetic epistle
a desperate wretch makes this appeal:
Dear cousin, Cousin Christel,
Why do you never write?

Don't you realize that hearts
overcome by love
are no laughing matter
particularly when they belong to a poet?

For I am one of those
whose head is constantly full.
If I am only half a poet
the other half is mad.

Amor has committed you to me,
you know his pay rate in advance
and the mouth that informs you
will not go away empty-handed either.

If  you happen to be passing just when
Your own treasure is looking out
Get her to repeat every word
that my little treasure confided to her.

Then you can write these words from the girl
filling half a dozen sheets of paper
in addition to an essay explaining
how I ought to behave, how I ought to behave.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2006 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2006-04-07
Line count: 24
Word count: 145

Translation © by Malcolm Wren
51. Bei einer Trauung
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Vor lauter hochadligen Zeugen
copuliert man ihrer Zwei;
die Orgel hängt voll Geigen,
der Himmel nicht, mein' Treu!

Seht doch, sie weint ja greulich,
er macht ein Gesicht abscheulich!
Denn leider freilich, freilich
keine Lieb' ist nicht dabei.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
51. At a wedding
Language: English 
 In front of honorable, noble witnesses
 the two of them are being wed;
 the organ music is full of pleasant anticipation,
 but nothing else is, my dear!

 Look how she cries so terribly,
 and he makes such an awful face! 
 For, it is very sad to say, of course
 there is no love here.

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 55

Translation © by Emily Ezust
52. Selbstgeständnis
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Ich bin meiner Mutter einzig Kind,
Und weil die andern ausblieben sind,
Was weiß ich wieviel, die sechs oder sieben, 
Ist eben alles an mir hängen blieben;
Ich hab' müssen die Liebe, die Treue, die Güte
Für ein ganz halb Dutzend allein aufessen,
Ich will's mein Lebtag nicht vergessen.
Es hätte mir aber noch wohl mögen frommen,
Hätt' ich nur auch Schläg' für Sechse bekommen.

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
52. Confession
Language: English 
I am my mother's only child
because the others did not stay,
I don't know how many, six or seven,
Everything centred on where I was;
My duty; the love, the loyalty, the kindness
for a half-dozen, alone to eat up,
I will my whole life not forget that.
It would have probably made me still more pious
had I also received the smacks for six as well.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2008 by Iain Sneddon, (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: 

Based on:

Go to the general single-text view


This text was added to the website: 2008-08-23
Line count: 9
Word count: 68

Translation © by Iain Sneddon
53. Abschied
 (Sung text)
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Unangeklopft ein Herr tritt Abends bei mir ein:
»Ich habe die Ehr', Ihr Rezensent zu sein!«
Sofort nimmt er das Licht in die Hand,
besieht lang meinen Schatten an der Wand,
rückt nah und fern: »Nun, lieber junger Mann,
sehn Sie doch gefälligst mal 
Ihre Nas' so von der Seite an!
Sie geben zu, daß das ein Auswuchs is'.«
Das? Alle Wetter - gewiß!
Ei Hasen! ich dachte nicht, all' mein Lebtage nicht,
daß ich so eine Weltsnase führt' im Gesicht!

Der Mann sprach noch Verschied'nes hin und her,
ich weiß, auf meine Ehre, nicht mehr;
meinte vielleicht, ich sollt' ihm beichten.
Zuletzt stand er auf; ich tat ihm leuchten.
Wie wir nun an der Treppe sind,
da geb' ich ihm, ganz frohgesinnt,
einen kleinen Tritt, 
nur so von hinten aufs Gesäße mit -
alle Hagel! ward das ein Gerumpel,
ein Gepurzel, ein Gehumpel!
Dergleichen hab' ich nie gesehn, 
all' mein Lebtage nicht gesehn
einen Menschen so rasch die Trepp' hinabgehn!

Text Authorship:

See other settings of this text.

by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
53. Farewell
Language: English 
Without knocking, a gentleman comes visiting me one evening:
"I have the honour to be your critic!" [he says.]
Immediately he takes the light in his hand,
gazes long at my shadow on the wall,
stepping close and then stepping back: "Now, my good young man,
kindly see how your nose 
looks from the side!
You must admit that it is a protuberance."
This? Good gracious - so it is!
My word! I never imagined - my whole life long -
that such a world-sized nose I bore on my face!

The man said various other things about this and that,
and on my honour, I remember no more;
perhaps he thought I should give him a confession.
Finally he stood up and I lit his way out.
As we stood at the top of the stairs,
I gave him, cheerfully,
a small kick
from behind, on the backside,
and by hail! what a jolting,
tumbling, and hobbling!
The equal have I never seen, 
my whole life long,
of a man going so quickly down the stairs!

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


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 174

Translation © by Emily Ezust