Translation by George MacDonald (1824 - 1905)

Das Grab ist tief und stille
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): CAT DUT ENG FRE
Das Grab ist tief und stille,
Und schauderhaft sein Rand.
Es deckt mit schwarzer Hülle
Ein unbekanntes Land.

Das Lied der Nachtigallen
Tönt nicht in seinem Schooß.
Der Freundschaft Rosen fallen
Nur auf des Hügels Moos.

Verlaßne Bräute ringen
Umsonst die Hände wund;
Der [Waise]1 Klagen dringen
Nicht in der Tiefe Grund.

Doch sonst an keinem Orte
Wohnt die ersehnte Ruh;
Nur durch die [dunkle]2 Pforte
Geht man der Heimat zu. 

Das arme Herz, hienieden
Von manchem Sturm bewegt,
Erlangt den wahren Frieden
Nur [wo]3 es nicht mehr schlägt.

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Confirmed with Gedichte von J. G. von Salis. Gesammelt durch seinen Freund Friedrich Matthisson. Zürich, bey Orell, Gessner, Füssli und Compagnie. 1793, pages 35-36; and with Gedichte von J. G. von Salis. Neueste Auflage. Wien 1815. Bey B. Ph. Bauer, pages 36-37.

First published in a different version in Göttinger Musenalmanach 1788, see below.

1 Schubert (D.643A): "Waisen"
2 Westenholz: "enge"
3 Westenholz: "wenn"

Authorship

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

Set in a modified version by .

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Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2018-09-03 02:52:43
Line count: 20
Word count: 89

The grave
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
The grave is deep and soundless,
Its brink is ghastly lone;
With veil all dark and boundless
It hides a land unknown.

The nightingale's sweet closes
Down there come not at all;
And friendship's withered roses
On the mossy hillock fall.

Their hands young brides forsaken
Wring bleeding there in vain;
The cries of orphans waken
No answer to their pain.

Yet nowhere else for mortals
Dwells their implored repose;
Through none but those dark portals
Home to his rest man goes.

The poor heart, here for ever
By storm on storm beat sore,
Its true peace gaineth never
But where it beats no more.

Confirmed with George MacDonald, Rampolli: Growths from a Long Planted Root. Being Translations, New and Old, Chiefly from the German, Longmans, Green & Co., London, 1897


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)

    [ None yet in the database ]


Researcher for this text: Melanie Trumbull

Text added to the website: 2014-07-27 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-07-27 01:54:59
Line count: 20
Word count: 105