Dort, wo mein Leben aus dem Kinderland
Auf ahnungsvoll beschrittenem Frühlingspfad
Zum ersten Mal ins heiße Leben trat
Und erster Leidenschaften Qual empfand,
Dort stehst im hellen Mädchenkleide du,
Trägst Heiderosen in der schmalen Hand
Und winkst mir unverstandene Grüße zu.
Vielleicht bist du schon alt, vielleicht schon tot.
Ich weiß es nicht. Doch weiß ich noch den Tag,
Da ich zum erstenmal am Wagenschlag
Dir schüchtern meine armen Rosen bot.
Nun bring ich einen späten Strauß dir dar -
Und bin nicht minder schüchtern, scheu und rot,
Als ich es einst mit meinen Rosen war.
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada, but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.
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 529.
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Emil Kühnel (1881 - 1971), "Meiner ersten Liebe", op. 91 no. 1 (1953) [ baritone and piano (another version also has oboe, clarinet, and violoncello) ], fragment [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "To my first love", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2014-03-25
Line count: 14
Word count: 96
There where my life stepped out from the realm of childhood
Upon a portentously trodden springtime path,
[Stepped] for the first time into ardent life
And felt the first torments of passion,
There you stand in your bright girlish dress,
Carrying roses from the heath in your slender hand
And you wave greetings to me that I do not understand.
Perhaps you are already old, perhaps already dead.
I do not know. Yet I still know the day
When at the carriage door for the first time
I shyly offered you my poor roses.
Now I bring a late bouquet to you -
And I am not any less timid, shy and red,
Than I once was with my roses.