LiederNet logo

CONTENTS

×
  • Home | Introduction
  • Composers (20,111)
  • Text Authors (19,486)
  • Go to a Random Text
  • What’s New
  • A Small Tour
  • FAQ & Links
  • Donors
  • DONATE

UTILITIES

  • Search Everything
  • Search by Surname
  • Search by Title or First Line
  • Search by Year
  • Search by Collection

CREDITS

  • Emily Ezust
  • Contributors (1,114)
  • Contact Information
  • Bibliography

  • Copyright Statement
  • Privacy Policy

Follow us on Facebook

×

Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.

It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.

To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net

If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.

Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.

by Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 - 1843)
Translation © by Sharon Krebs

O heilig Herz der Völker, o Vaterland!
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Our translations:  ENG
O heilig Herz der Völker, o Vaterland!
   Allduldend, gleich der schweigenden Mutter Erd,
      Und allverkannt, wenn schon aus deiner
         Tiefe die Fremden ihr Bestes haben!
 
Sie ernten den Gedanken, den Geist von dir,
   Sie pflücken gern die Traube, doch höhnen sie
      Dich, ungestalte Rebe! daß du
         Schwankend den Boden und wild umirrest.
 
Du Land des hohen ernsteren Genius!
   Du Land der Liebe! bin ich der deine schon,
      Oft zürnt ich weinend, daß du immer
         Blöde die eigene Seele leugnest.
 
Doch magst du manches Schöne nicht bergen mir,
   Oft stand ich überschauend das holde Grün,
      Den weiten Garten hoch in deinen
         Lüften auf hellem Gebirg und sah dich.
 
An deinen Strömen ging ich und dachte dich,
   Indes die Töne schüchtern die Nachtigall
      Auf schwanker Weide sang, und still auf
         Dämmerndem Grunde die Welle weilte.
 
Und an den Ufern sah ich die Städte blühn,
   Die Edlen, wo der Fleiß in der Werkstatt schweigt,
      Die Wissenschaft, wo deine Sonne
         Milde dem Künstler zum Ernste leuchtet.
 
Kennst du Minervas Kinder? sie wählten sich
   Den Ölbaum früh zum Lieblinge; kennst du sie?
      Noch lebt, noch waltet der Athener
         Seele, die sinnende, still bei Menschen,
 
Wenn Platons frommer Garten auch schon nicht mehr
   Am alten Strome grünt und der dürftge Mann
      Die Heldenasche pflügt, und scheu der
         Vogel der Nacht auf der Säule trauert.
 
O heilger Wald! o Attika! traf Er doch
   Mit seinem furchtbarn Strahle dich auch, so bald,
      Und eilten sie, die dich belebt, die
         Flammen entbunden zum Aether über?
 
Doch, wie der Frühling, wandelt der Genius
   Von Land zu Land. Und wir? ist denn Einer auch
      Von unsern Jünglingen, der nicht ein
         Ahnden, ein Rätsel der Brust, verschwiege?
 
Den deutschen Frauen danket! sie haben uns
   Der Götterbilder freundlichen Geist bewahrt,
      Und täglich sühnt der holde klare
         Friede das böse Gewirre wieder.
 
Wo sind jetzt Dichter, denen der Gott es gab,
   Wie unsern Alten, freudig und fromm zu sein,
      Wo Weise, wie die unsre sind? die
         Kalten und Kühnen, die Unbestechbarn!
 
Nun! sei gegrüßt in deinem Adel, mein Vaterland,
   Mit neuem Namen, reifeste Frucht der Zeit!
      Du letzte und du erste aller
         Musen, Urania, sei gegrüßt mir!
 
Noch säumst und schweigst du, sinnest ein freudig Werk,
   Das von dir zeuge, sinnest ein neu Gebild,
      Das einzig, wie du selber, das aus
         Liebe geboren und gut, wie du, sei -
 
Wo ist dein Delos, wo dein Olympia,
   Daß wir uns alle finden am höchsten Fest? -
      Doch wie errät der Sohn, was du den
         Deinen, Unsterbliche, längst bereitest? 

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   H. Eisler 

H. Eisler sets stanzas 1-2, 4, 6 in (at least) one setting - see below for more information

About the headline (FAQ)

Text Authorship:

  • by Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 - 1843), "Gesang des Deutschen" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

  • by Hanns Eisler (1898 - 1962), "Erinnerung", 1943, stanzas 1-2,4,6, from Hölderlin Fragmente, no. 6 [sung text checked 1 time]
  • by Hanns Eisler (1898 - 1962), "Erinnerung", from Hollywooder Liederbuch, no. 42 [sung text checked 1 time]
  • by Josef Matthias Hauer (1883 - 1959), "Gesang des Deutschen", op. 32 (Sieben Lieder) no. 7 (1924) [ medium voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 60
Word count: 411

Oh holy heart of the nations, oh...
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Oh holy heart of the nations, oh fatherland!
   Forbearing all, like the silent Mother Earth,
      And utterly misjudged, even though strangers have
         Exploited you, taking the best from your depths.
 
From you they harvest the thought, the spirit,
   They gladly pick the grape cluster, but they scoff
      At you, ill-formed vine, that you
         Straggle about on the ground, swaying and wild.
 
You land of lofty, more solemn genius!
   You land of love! although I am already yours,
      Often I raged, weeping, that you always
         Witlessly deny your own soul.
 
Yet you cannot hide from me many beauties;
   Often I stood, letting my gaze wander over the lovely verdure,
      The broad garden high in your airy winds
         Upon the bright mountains, and [I] saw you.
 
Along your rivers I walked and thought you,
   While the nightingale upon the swaying willow
      Shyly sang its notes, and quietly upon
         Twilit depths the wave lingered.
 
And upon the shores I saw the cities blooming,
   The noble ones, where industry falls silent in the workshop,
      [I saw] knowledge, where your sun
         Gently lights the artist’s way to solemnity.
 
Do you know Minerva’s children? early on, they chose
   The olive tree as their favourite; do you know them?
      Still lives, still prevails the soul of Athens' people,
         The meditative [soul], quietly among humankind.
 
Even though Plato’s good garden no longer
   Flourishes along the old river, and an impoverished man
      Plows the ashes of heroes, and shyly the
         Night-bird mourns upon the pillar.
 
Oh holy wood! oh Attica! did He after all strike
   You too with his fearsome beam, so quickly,
      And did they hasten, they who enlivened you, the
         Flames, released, over to the aether?
 
But, as does the spring, genius wanders
   From land to land.  And we? is there even one
      Of our youths, who does not conceal
         A premonition, an enigma of the bosom?
 
Give thanks to German women! they have protected
   For us the friendly spirit of the images of the gods
      And daily lovely, clear Peace expiates
         Again the evil tangle.
 
Where are there now poets, whom the god gave [the ability],
   As he gave it to our old ones, to be joyful and pious,
      Where are wise ones like those of ours? the
         Cold and courageous ones, the incorruptible!
 
Now! be greeted in your nobility, my fatherland,
   With a new name, ripest fruit of the times!
      You the last and you the first of all
         Muses, Urania, I greet you!
 
You still tarry and are silent, pondering a joyful work
   That might speak of you, pondering a new image
      That is unique like you yourself, that is solely born
         Of love and is good, as you are --
 
Where is your Delos, where your Olympia,
   So that we may all find each other at the highest festival?--
      But how can the son divine what you, Immortal One, have
         Long prepared for those who are your own?

About the headline (FAQ)

Translated titles:
"Gesang der Deutschen" = "Song of the Germans"
"Erinnerung" = "Remembrance"

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:

  • a text in German (Deutsch) by Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 - 1843), "Gesang des Deutschen"
    • Go to the text page.

 

This text was added to the website: 2016-09-16
Line count: 60
Word count: 484

Gentle Reminder

This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

Donate

We use cookies for internal analytics and to earn much-needed advertising revenue. (Did you know you can help support us by turning off ad-blockers?) To learn more, see our Privacy Policy. To learn how to opt out of cookies, please visit this site.

I acknowledge the use of cookies

Contact
Copyright
Privacy

Copyright © 2025 The LiederNet Archive

Site redesign by Shawn Thuris