I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn
Language: English after the Bangla (Bengali)
I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn
uselessly roaming in the sky,
O my sun ever-glorious!
Thy touch has not yet melted my vapour,
making me one with thy light,
and thus I count months and years separated from thee.
If this be thy wish and if this be thy play,
then take this fleeting emptiness of mine,
paint it with colours, gild it with gold,
float it on the wanton wind
and spread it in varied wonders.
And again, when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night,
I shall melt and vanish away in the dark,
or it may be in a smile of the white morning,
in a coolness of purity transparent.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Albert Biales (1929 - 2012), "I am like a remnant of a cloud of Autumn", 1982, first performed 1982 [ soprano and orchestra or piano ], from When the Creation Was New, no. 3 [sung text not yet checked]
- by John Alden Carpenter (1876 - 1951), no title, alternate title: "I am like a Remnant of a Cloud of Autumn", published 1914 [ voice and piano ], from Gitanjali (Song Offerings), no. 4, New York, G. Schirmer [sung text checked 1 time]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Geoffrey Wieting
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 15
Word count: 121
Ich bin, was übrig blieb von einer Wolk’
Language: German (Deutsch) after the English
Ich bin, was übrig blieb von einer Wolk’,
die ohne Sinn am Herbsteshimmel zieht,
du meine Sonn’, die ewig strahlt!
Ich bin von dir noch nicht ganz aufgelöst,
zu einen mich mit deinem Licht,
so zähl’ die Monde ich und Jahr’, die ich getrennt von dir.
Wenn dies dein Wunsch, wenn dies dein Spiel,
dann nimm die flücht’ge Leere mir,
gib Farbe ihr, mal sie in Gold,
lass tollen sie im Wind
und immer wieder neu und wundersam erscheinen.
Und wird’s dein Wunsch sein, dieses Spiel des Nachts zu enden,
werd’ ich zerrinnen und ins Dunkel gehn,
oder vielleicht im Lächeln sein des weißen Morgens,
in einer Kühle, gläsern, rein.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2014-07-11
Line count: 15
Word count: 110
