Vier Gedichte von Emily Dickinson

Translations © by Bertram Kottmann

Song Cycle by John Woods Duke (1899 - 1984)

Word count: 296
Original language: Four Poems by Emily Dickinson
1. New feet within my garden go [sung text checked 1 time]
New feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod;
A troubadour upon the elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green,
New weary sleep below;
And still the pensive spring returns,
And still the punctual snow!

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
1.
Neues durch meinen Garten geht,
im Boden regt sich’s leis,
ein Vogel singt im Ulmenbaum,
gibt sein Alleinsein preis.

Und neue Kinder spiel’n im Gras
neue, die müd, ruhn drunt -
doch ewig tut bedacht der Lenz,
pünktlich der Schnee sich kund!

Authorship

  • Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2016 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.

    Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de

    If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:

Based on


Text added to the website: 2016-05-04 00:00:00
Last modified: 2016-05-04 19:35:06
Line count: 8
Word count: 42

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann
2. The rose did caper on her cheek [sung text not yet checked]
The rose did caper on her cheek,
Her bodice rose and fell,
Her pretty speech, like drunken men,
Did stagger pitiful.

Her fingers fumbled at her work, -
Her needle would not go;
What ailed so smart a little maid
It puzzled me to know,

Till opposite I spied a cheek
That bore another rose;
Just opposite, another speech
That like the drunkard goes;

A vest that, like the bodice, danced
To the immortal tune, -
Till those two troubled little clocks
Ticked softly into one.

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
2.
Röte ihr in die Wangen stieg,
ihr Mieder hob sich, sank,
als sie, wie jemand der beschwipst,
nach richt’gen Worten rang.

Sie fingerte am Stoff herum,
die Nadel blieb ihr stehn;
was sie wohl durcheinander bringt -
gern würd ich es verstehn.

Bis vis-à-vis die Wang ich blickt’,
auf der auch Röte stand,
und jemand, der auch wie beschwipst,
nicht richt’ge Worte fand.

Ein Hemd, das, wie ihr Mieder, tanzt’
zur ewgen Melodie,
bis beide wilde Herzchen sanft
schlugen in Harmonie.

Authorship

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


Text added to the website: 2019-01-15 00:00:00
Last modified: 2019-01-15 12:23:26
Line count: 16
Word count: 81

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann
3. Have you got a brook in your little heart [sung text not yet checked]
 Have you got a brook in your little heart,
 Where bashful flowers blow,
 And blushing birds go down to drink,
 And shadows tremble so?

 And nobody knows, so still it flows,
 That any brook is there;
 And yet your little draught of life
 Is daily drunken there.

 Then look out for the little brook in March,
 When the rivers overflow,
 And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
 And the bridges often go.

 And later, in August it may be,
 When the meadows parching lie,
 Beware, lest this little brook of life
 Some burning noon go dry!

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
3.
Hast du einen Bach tief im Herzen drin,
wo scheue Blumen blühn,
und schüchtern Vögel trinken gehn,
und Schatten schwankend ziehn?

’s ist niemand gewiss - so stille er fließt -,
dass er im Herzen rinnt;
doch dieser Lebensbach es ist,
aus dem du täglich trinkst.

Im Märzen beacht’ diesen kleinen Bach,
wenn die Flüsse treten aus,
und der Schnee stürzt von den Bergen herab,
und mit Brücken oft geht’s aus.

Und später, im August vielleicht,
wenn versengt die Aue liegt,
gib acht, dass dieses Bächlein nicht
in Mittags Glut versiegt!

Authorship

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


Text added to the website: 2019-01-15 00:00:00
Last modified: 2019-01-15 12:24:03
Line count: 16
Word count: 91

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann
4. I taste a liquor never brewed [sung text not yet checked]
I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
4.
Ich kost’ Likör, der nie gebraut,
aus perlengroßem Krug,
nicht jedes Fass mit Wein vom Rhein
solch einen Trank je trug.

Betrunken von der Luft bin ich,
bade im Morgentau,
taumle endlose Sommer lang
durch Schenken ganz aus Blau.

Und wirft der Wirt die trunk’ne Bien’
aus seinem „Fingerhut“,
und Falter meiden weitren Trunk -
mir ist’s nach mehr zumut!

Bis Seraph schwenkt den weißen Hut,
und zu den Fenstern rennt
die heil’ge Schar, mich „blau“ zu sehn
gegen die Sonn’ gelehnt.

Authorship

  • Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2016 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.

    Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de

    If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:

Based on

Translation of title "I taste a liquor" = "Ich kost’ Likör"


Text added to the website: 2016-05-04 00:00:00
Last modified: 2017-09-22 16:13:07
Line count: 16
Word count: 82

Translation © by Bertram Kottmann