by Nikolaus Lenau (1802 - 1850)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

Stille wird's im Walde; die lieben...
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG FRE ITA
Stille wird's im Walde; die lieben kleinen
Sänger prüfen schaukelnd den Ast, der durch die
Nacht dem neuen Fluge sie trägt, den neuen
  Liedern entgegen.

Bald versinkt die Sonne; des Waldes Riesen
Heben höher sich in die Lüfte, um noch
Mit des Abends flüchtigen Rosen sich ihr
  Haupt zu bekränzen.

Schon verstummt die Matte; den satten Rindern
Selten nur enthallt das Geglock am Halse,
Und es pflückt der wählende Zahn nur lässig
  Dunklere Gräser.

Und dort blickt der schuldlos Hirt der Sonne
Sinnend nach; dem Sinnenden jetzt entfallen
Flöt und Stab, es falten die Hände sich zum
  Stillen Gebete.

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Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

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

  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , title 1: "It grows quiet in the wood", copyright ©
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , title unknown, copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , title unknown, copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:38
Line count: 16
Word count: 99

It grows quiet in the wood
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
 It grows quiet in the wood; the dear little 
 singers on the swinging branch,
 which through the night will bear their new flights,
 experiment with new songs.
 
 Soon the sun begins to descend; the giants 
 of the wood lift themselves higher into air, so that
 with the evening's fluttering roses they
 may wreathe their heads.

 Already the meadow is silent; 
 only seldom can you hear the ringing from their necks,
 and their choosy teeth pick 
 casually only the darker grass.

 And there the guileless herdsman gazes 
 pensively after the sun;
 flute and stick now drop from the reflecting man's hands
 and he folds them for a silent prayer.

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 -- https://www.lieder.net/

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


Based on

 

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:38
Line count: 16
Word count: 109