Als nachts ich überm Gebirge ritt,
Rack, schack, schacke mein Pferdchen,
Da ritt ein seltsam Klingeln mit,
Kling, ling, klingelalei.
Es war ein schmeichlerisch bittend Getön,
Es war wie Kinderstimmen schön.
Mir wars, ich streichelt' ein lindes Haar,
Mir war so weh und wunderbar.
Da schwand das Klingeln mit einemmal,
Ich sah hinunter ins tiefe Tal.
Dann sah ich Licht in meinem Haus,
Rack, schack, schacke mein Pferdchen,
Mein Bübchen sah nach der Mutter aus,
Kling, ling, klingelalei.
Composition:
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Alberto Pedrotti , Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor]This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 82
When by night I rode over the mountains,
Rack, schack, schacke, my little horse,
A strange ringing seemed to be riding along with me,
Kling, ling, klingelalei.
It was a beguilingly pleading sound,
It was as beautiful as the voices of children.
It was as if I were caressing a soft head of hair,
I felt so melancholy and wondrous.
Then the ringing disappeared all at once,
I gazed down into the deep valley.
Then I saw light within my house,
Rack, schack, schacke, my little horse,
My little lad was looking out for his mother,
Kling, ling, klingelalei.
