by Ignaz Hub (1810 - 1880)
Translation © by Sharon Krebs

Ruhe
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Our translations:  ENG
Was sind des Lebens Freuden?
Ein Quell geheimer Leiden,
Ein ewiger Verlust.
Kein Glück ist uns beschieden,
Nie trinken wir den Frieden
[An unsrer Mutterbrust]1.

Die Hoffnung winkt den Thoren,
Zum Leid sind wir geboren,
Das ist des Menschen Loos.
Was hold bescheert der Morgen,
Hüllt schon voll bitt'rer Sorgen
Die Nacht in ihren Schoos.

So fliehen Tage, Stunden,
Von Gram und Schmerz umwunden
Hinab in's Zeitenmeer,
Bis wir zuletzt entschweben
Zur Ruh' in's beß're Leben,
Zum schöneren Verkehr.

Dort in der stillen Kammer
Entflieht das Leid, der Jammer,
Das Grab ist taub und still.
Dort fließen keine Thränen,
Dort stillt sich alles Sehnen,
Dort ist der Leiden Ziel.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   J. Lang 

J. Lang sets stanzas 1-2

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Lyraklänge. Gedichte von Ignatz Hub, Würzburg: In Commission der Stahel’schen Buchhandlung, 1832, pages 51-52.

Note: the subtitle comes from Sophocles, Elektra, line 1170. Information about the Greek text was provided by Dr. Sofia Kontossi of the Leonidas Zoras Archive and the National Conservatory of Greece. Her help is gratefully acknowledged.

Note for Lang's setting: in the repetition of stanza 1, line 6, the line becomes "Aus ihrer Brust".

1 Lang: "Aus unsrer Mutter"

Text 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) , "Rest", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2015-01-19
Line count: 24
Word count: 111

Rest
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
What are life’s joys?
A source of secret suffering,
An eternal loss.
No happiness is our lot,
Never do we imbibe peace
[At our mother’s breast.]1

Hope signals to fools,
We are born to suffer,
That is the fate of mankind.
What the morning has lovingly offered,
The womb of night already
Wraps in bitter anxieties.

Thus flee days, hours,
Wreathed with grief and pain,
[Flee] into the sea of time,
Until we at last are wafted away
To peace in a better life,
To a more beautiful communion.

There in the quiet chamber
Suffering and complaining vanish
The grave is deaf and still.
No tears flow there,
There every yearning is fulfilled,
There is the goal of our suffering.

View original text (without footnotes)

Note: the subtitle "Τους γαρ θανόντας ουχ ορώ λυπουμένους" can be translated "Since I see that the dead are relieved of pain" in The Electra of Sophocles, edited with introduction and notes by Sir Richard Jebb, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1894.

Note for Lang's setting: when stanza 1, line 6 is repeated, it can be translated "From her breast".

1 Lang: "From our mother"

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2015 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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Based on:

  • a text in German (Deutsch) by Ignaz Hub (1810 - 1880), "Ruhe", subtitle: "Τους γαρ θανόντας ουχ ορώ λυπουμένους"

 

This text was added to the website: 2015-01-19
Line count: 24
Word count: 121