Es hat die Mutter mir gesagt, dort hinter jenem Berge,
Der Wolken um den Gipfel hat und Nebel um die Wurzel,
Dort wächst das Kraut Vergessenheit, dort wächst es in den Schluchten.
O wüßt' ich doch den Pfad dahin, drei Tage wollt' ich wandern
Und wollte brechen von dem Kraut und wollt's im Weine trinken,
Damit ich dich vergessen könnt' und deine falschen Schwüre
Und deine Augen, die so oft von Liebe mir gesprochen,
Und deinen süßen Mund, der tausendmal mich küßte!
Composition:
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "L'herbe de l'oubli", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor], Johann Winkler
This text was added to the website: 2007-07-10
Line count: 8
Word count: 86
My mother said to me, there behind yonder mountain,
Which has clouds about its peak and mists about its roots,
There grows the herb of forgetting, there it grows in the chasms.
Oh, if I but knew the way there, I would wander for three days
And would pluck the herb and drink it dissolved in wine,
So that I might forget you and your false vows
And your eyes that so often spoke of love to me,
And your sweet lips, that kissed me a thousand times!
