by Hermann Hesse (1877 - 1962)
Translation © by Sharon Krebs

Es geht kein Rauschen übers Feld
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG
Es geht kein Rauschen übers Feld,
Dem nicht mein Horchen nachgestellt
Sehnsüchtig, forschend, unverwandt,
Bis mir sein eigenster Laut bekannt.

Dann sucht mein Finger seinen Grund
Nachtastend auf und müht sich wund,
Den Dämmerlauten nachzugeigen,
Bis ihm der zarteste Ton zu eigen.

Es ist kein Weh in meiner Brust,
In meinem Traum kein Heimwehziel --
Es hat ans Tageslicht gemußt
Zu Schmuck und Zierrat meinem Spiel.

Auch Seufzer, Kuß und Liebeswort
Und was der Freund dem Freunde sagt,
Hab ich in meinen Dienst geplagt
Und weis ihm geigend seinen Ort.

Ich streiche ruhig auf und ab,
Und geb mein blutend Leben her
Und gebe, was noch keiner gab --
Mich aber freut mein Spiel nicht mehr.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with Hermann Hesse Sämtliche Werke, herausgegeben von Volker Michels, Band 10 Die Gedichte, bearbeitet von Peter Huber, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 2002, page 49.


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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "No soughing passes", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2014-02-17
Line count: 20
Word count: 114

No soughing passes
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
No soughing passes o'er the field
That my listening [ear] has not pursued --
Yearning, seeking, unwaveringly,
Until its most distinctive sound is known to me.

Then my finger seeks its depths,
Groping after it, and labours unto soreness
To play back the hazily-discerned sounds on my violin,
Until my fingers possess its most delicate tone.

There is no pain within my breast,
No object of nostalgia in my dreams --
It had to come out into the light of day
To garnish and adorn my playing.

Also sighs, kisses and words of love
And what a friend says to a friend,
I forced into my servitude
And direct to its place by my fiddling.

I serenely wield my bow, up and down,
And, bleeding, give my life
And give what no one yet has given --
But my playing no longer gives me joy.

Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2014 by Sharon Krebs, (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: 

Based on:

 

This text was added to the website: 2014-02-17
Line count: 20
Word count: 142