Das Götzenopfer
Language: German (Deutsch)
Der Mond wie Blut,
Die Wolken fahl,--
Die Stund' ist gut!
Wir ziehn in's Thal
Zum Opferherde nieder.
Das Opfer ächzt,
Der Blutgott lechzt.
Hebt an die strengen Lieder!
Was dunkel haus't
Im Wolkenthron,
Oft in uns graus't
Mit ernstem Droh'n,
Wir wissen's nicht zu nennen.
Dem leben wir,
Dem fällt das Thier,
Und Opfergluthen brennen.
Das Blut versöhnt,
Wenn's fleußt dahin!
So ist's ertönt
Durch unsern Sinn
Aus ernsten Wunderträumen.
Fleuß, Opferblut!
Erbeb', o Muth,
Und laß dein stolzes Schäumen.
Geheimnißreich
Am trüben Ort,
Und schreckenbleich
Mit harten Wort
Begehn wir unsre Feste.
Der Mond allein
Darf Zeuge seyn -
Und Eul' und Nachtmohr Gäste.
Von Osten zieht
Herauf das Licht!
Schließt Euer Lied,
Verweilet nicht;
Uns lehrten's alte Sagen!
Lang' wird vollbracht
Das Werk in Macht,
Einst wird, einst wird es tagen.
Confirmed with Gedichte von Fridr. Baron de la Motte-Fouqué, Zweyter Theil, Neueste Auflage, Wien: Bey B. Ph. Bauer, 1818, pages 27-28
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) , "The idolothyte", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2016-01-04
Line count: 40
Word count: 133
The idolothyte
Language: English after the German (Deutsch)
The moon like blood,
The clouds so drab, --
The hour is right!
We descend into the valley
Down to the sacrificial oven.
The sacrifice groans,
The blood-god is craving [his due].
Begin the solemn songs!
That which lives darkly
In the throne of the clouds,
Often shudders within us
With solemn threatening,
We know not what to call it.
For it we live,
For it the beast is slain,
And [for it] the glowing sacrificial coals burn.
The blood propitiates
As it flows!
Thus it rings
Through our spirit
From solemn miraculous dreams.
Flow, sacrificial blood!
Shudder, oh spirit,
And leave off your proud seething.
Secret-laden
At a dreary location
And pale with fright,
With hard words
We celebrate our festivals.
The moon alone
May bear witness --
And owl and night-moor be guests.
From the East
Rises the light!
Conclude your song,
Do not tarry;
Old sagas taught us!
For a long time is accomplished
The work in power;
Once, once it shall become day.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2016-01-04
Line count: 40
Word count: 165
