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Da mit Sokrates die Freunde tranken Und die Häupter auf die [Polster]1 sanken, Kam ein Jüngling, kann ich mich entsinnen, Mit zwei schlanken Flötenbläserinnen. Aus den Kelchen schütten wir die Neigen. Die gesprächesmüden Lippen schweigen. Um die welken Kränze zieht ein Singen... Still, des Todes Schlummerflöten klingen.
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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 48
When with Socrates the friends did drink and their heads began to sink onto the upholstery, a young man came - I can remember - with two slender flute-playing women. From our goblets we shake the dregs. Lips, tired from speaking, fall silent. About the wilted wreaths comes singing: silently, Death's slumber-flutes sound.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 52
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