Schon kehren die Vögel wieder ein,
Es schallen die alten Lieder,
Ach, die fröhliche Jugend mein,
Kommt die wohl auch noch wieder?
Ich weiß nicht, was ich so thöricht bin!
Wolken im Herbstwind jagen,
Die Vögel ziehn über die Felder hin,
Das klang wie in Frühlingstagen.
Dort auf dem Berg, da steht ein Baum,
Drin jubeln die Wandergäste,
Er aber, müde, rührt wie im Traum
Noch einmal Wipfel und Äste.
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Text Authorship:
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor]This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 72
Already the birds are returning,
The old songs ring out,
Ah, my joyful youth,
Shall it too ever return?
I know not why I am so foolish!
Clouds are scudding in the autumn wind,
The birds pass over the fields,
That sounded like in days of spring.
There upon the mountain stands a tree,
Within it the wandering guests are rejoicing,
But the tree, tired, as if in a dream
Stirs once more its crown and branches.
