La mort de la mort | La mort est devenue fatiguée

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by Eduard Reinacher (1892 - 1968)

Translation © by Guy Laffaille

Des Todes Tod

Language: German (Deutsch)

Our translations: FRE NOR

Der Tod ist müde worden,
Er strecket sich zur Ruh
In einem Sommergarten,
Die Blumen wachsen ob ihm zu.
Sie wachsen hoch empor,
Aus seinen Elfenbeinern leuchten
Die frühen Astern vor.

Der Tod liegt ausgestrecket,
Die Blumen steigen auf:
Mit Rosenrot bedecket,
Endet er seinen Lauf.
Die Knochen bleichen ganz,
Verwesen und verwelken
Bei aller Sonnen Mittagsglanz.

Der Tod wird lauter Leben,
Er steigt erneut empor,
Ein Knabe, blumenumgeben
Aus den roten Asterblättern vor.
Er geht und leuchtet schön.
Alle Menschen sind gestorben.
Sein Haar fliegt goldig schön im Föhn!

Text Authorship:

by Eduard Reinacher (1892 - 1968) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]

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

by Paul Hindemith (1895 - 1963), "Des Todes Tod", op. 23a no. 3, copyright © 1922, first performed 1922 [ mezzo-soprano, 2 violas, 2 violoncellos ], from Des Todes Tod, no. 3 [sung text checked 1 time]

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

FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "La mort de la mort", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
NOR Norwegian (Bokmål) (Marianne Beate Kielland) , "Dødens Død", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-10-01
Line count: 21
Word count: 90

La mort de la mort

Language: French (Français) after the German (Deutsch)

La mort est devenue fatiguée,
Elle s'étire pour se reposer
Dans un jardin d'été,
Les fleurs poussent au-dessus d'elle.
Elles poussent haut,
De ses os d'ivoire brillent
Les premiers asters.

La mort est allongée, étirée,
Les fleurs se dressent :
Recouverte de roses rouges,
Elle finit son temps.
Les os pâlissent totalement,
Se décomposent et se flétrissent
Dans tout l'éclat du soleil de midi.

La mort devient vie forte,
Elle s'élève renouvelée,
Une petite fille, enveloppée de fleurs,
Au milieu des feuilles d'asters rouges.
Elle marche et brille de beauté.
Tous les hommes sont morts.
Sa chevelure vole dorée dans le fœhn.

Text Authorship:

Translation from German (Deutsch) to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Guy Laffaille, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net

Based on:

a text in German (Deutsch) by Eduard Reinacher (1892 - 1968)
- Go to the text page.

This text was added to the website: 2014-01-22
Line count: 21
Word count: 101