Hier will ich ruhn. Es flügelt lind
Im Hain und biegt die Wipfel kaum
Von Wiesen her ein leiser Wind
Sich schmiegend scheu an Busch und Baum.
Von allem, was im Weiten liegt,
Kommt nur ein Hauch ein halber Laut
Zu mir vom Winde hergewiegt
Mit einem Ruch von Wiesenkraut.
Von allem, was im Weiten liegt,
Von meiner Jugend Leid und Glück,
Blieb nur vom leisen Wind gewiegt
Ein stilles Müdesein zurück.
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada and the U.S., 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, pages 54-55.
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):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El tranquil boscatge", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "The quiet grove", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Le bois silencieux", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2014-07-27
Line count: 12
Word count: 72
Here I wish to rest. In the grove -
Barely bending the treetops -
A quiet wind from the meadows gently lifts its wings,
And shyly cosies up to bush and tree.
From all that lies in the distance,
Only a breath, half a sound
Is wafted over to me by the wind
With a scent of meadow herbs.
From all that lies in the distance,
From the sorrow and joy of my youth,
There remains only a quiet tiredness,
Rocked by the quiet wind.