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

Der Dichter
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG FRE
Reiner atmet der Garten im Tau der Nacht,
Stiller brandet vom Tale die Stadt herauf,
Blumen schimmern im Dunkeln
Geisterhaft blaß wie aus Träumen her.

Mir allein, der ich müde der Sonne bin,
Kühlt auch der Abend die brennende Stirne nicht,
Mir verschmachten die Sinne
Dürstender als am Tage noch.

Ungestillt verzehrt mich die Leidenschaft,
Die ich des Tags mit so viel Listen betrog,
Ach nun steht sie verzweifelt
Aus der kurzen Betäubung auf.

Liebe atmet der Baum und Liebe der Mond,
Liebe träumen die Blumen im schwarzen Laub,
Nur ich Einsamer dürste
Ungeliebt in der lachenden Welt.

Mädchen bleiben und Männer bezaubert stehn,
Wenn durchs Gebüsch meine einsame Laute tönt,
Und in Liedern verblutet
Statt in Liebesarmen mein Herz.

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 191.


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) , "The poet", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Le poète", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2014-10-21
Line count: 20
Word count: 120

The poet
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
The garden breathes more purely in the dew of the night,
More quietly the noise of the city surges upward from the valley,
Flowers shimmer in the darkness
Ghostly pale as if from out of dreams.

I alone, who am tired of the sun,
Even nightfall does not cool my burning brow,
My senses languish
More thirstingly than even during the day.

Unquenched, passion consumes me,
[Psssion,] which I outwitted with so much cunning during the day,
Ah, now it arises in despair
From the brief numbness.

The tree breathes love, and love the moon,
The flowers dream love in the dark foliage,
Only I, the solitary one, thirst
Unloved in the laughing world.

Maidens stop and men, spellbound,
When through the bushes my lonely lute sounds,
And my heart bleeds itself to death
In songs, instead of in the arms of love.

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.
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This text was added to the website: 2014-10-21
Line count: 20
Word count: 143