by Alfred von Meißner (1822 - 1885)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): CAT DUT ENG FRE SPA
Sie ist gegangen, die Wonnen versanken,
Nun glühen die Wangen, nun rinnen die Thränen;
Es schwanken die kranken,
Die heißen Gedanken,
Es pocht das Herz in Wünschen und Sehnen.

Und hab' ich den Tag mit Andacht begonnen,
Tagüber gelebt in stillem Entzücken,
So leb' ich jetzt träumend,
Die Arbeit versäumend
Von dem, was sie schenkte in Worten und Blicken.

So hängen noch lang nach dem Scheiden des Tages
In [lenziger]1 Nachtluft, beim säuselnden Winde,
Die [Bienlein]2 wie trunken
Und wonneversunken
An zitternde Blüthen der duftigen Linde.

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Gesammelte Schriften von Alfred Meißner, achzehnter Band: Dichtungen, Leipzig: Fr. Wilh. Grunow, 1872, page 11.

1 Brahms: "säuselnder"; another edition has "schweigender"
2 another edition has "Bienen"


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) , "Seqüela", copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Nawerking", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "After-effect", copyright ©
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Répercussion", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Alfonso Sebastián) , "Secuelas", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Melanie Trumbull

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 15
Word count: 86

Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
She has gone, the bliss has sunk,
Now my cheeks glow, now tears run,
I'm reeling with sickly
feverish thoughts,
My heart pounds with desire and longing.

And if I'd begun the day with prayers,
And lived each day in quiet delight,
Now I live in a dreamy world,
Neglecting my work
To think of what she bestowed on me in words and gazes.

Thus do bees hang, long after the day has departed,
In the [spring]1 breezes of night and whispering winds,
As if intoxicated
And drowned in rapture,
On the trembling blossoms of the fragrant Linden tree.

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Brahms: "rustling"


  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust

    Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:

    Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
    from the LiederNet Archive --

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.

Based on:


This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 15
Word count: 99