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Ist der holde Lenz erschienen? Hat die Erde sich verjüngt? Die besonnten Hügel grünen, Und des Eises Rinde springt. Aus der Ströme blauem Spiegel Lacht der unbewölkte Zeus, Milder wehen Zephyrs Flügel, Augen treibt das junge Reis. In dem Hayn erwachen Lieder, Und die Oreade spricht: Deine Blumen kehren wieder, Deine Tochter kehret nicht. Ach! wie lang' ist's, daß ich walle Suchend durch der Erde Flur, Titan, [deine]1 Strahlen alle Sandt' ich nach der theuren Spur, Keiner hat mir noch verkündet Von dem lieben Angesicht, Und der Tag, der alles findet, Die Verlorne fand er nicht. Hast du Zeus! sie mir entrissen, Hat, von ihrem Reiz gerührt, Zu des Orkus schwarzen Flüssen Pluto sie hinabgeführt? Wer wird nach dem düstern Strande Meines Grames Bote seyn? Ewig stößt der Kahn vom Lande, Doch nur Schatten nimmt er ein. Jedem sel'gen Aug' verschlossen Bleibt das nächtliche Gefild', Und so lang der Styx geflossen, Trug er kein lebendig Bild. Nieder führen tausend Steige, Keiner führt zum Tag zurück, Ihre [Thränen]2 bringt kein Zeuge Vor der bangen Mutter Blick. Mütter, die aus Pyrrhas Stamme Sterbliche gebohren sind, Dürfen durch des Grabes Flamme Folgen dem geliebten Kind, Nur was Jovis Haus bewohnet, Nahet nicht dem dunkeln Strand, Nur die Seligen verschonet, Parzen, eure strenge Hand. Stürzt mich in die Nacht der Nächte Aus des Himmels goldnem Saal, Ehret nicht der Göttinn Rechte, Ach! sie sind der Mutter Qual! Wo sie mit dem finstern Gatten Freudlos thronet, stieg ich hin, [Träte]3 mit den leisen Schatten Leise vor die Herrscherinn. Ach ihr Auge, [feucht]4 von Zähren, Sucht umsonst das goldne Licht, Irret nach entfernten Sphären, Auf die Mutter fällt es nicht, Bis die Freude sie entdecket, Bis sich Brust mit Brust vereint, Und zum Mitgefühl erwecket, Selbst der rauhe Orkus weint. Eitler Wunsch! Verlorne Klagen! Ruhig in dem gleichen [Gleis]5 Rollt des Tages sichrer Wagen, [Ewig steht der Schluß des Zeus]6. Weg von jenen Finsternissen Wandt er sein beglücktes Haupt, Einmal in die Nacht gerissen, Bleibt sie ewig mir geraubt, Bis des dunkeln Stromes Welle Von Aurorens Farben glüht, Iris mitten durch die Hölle Ihren schönen Bogen zieht. Ist mir nichts von ihr geblieben, Nicht ein süß erinnernd Pfand, Daß die Fernen sich noch lieben, Keine Spur [der theuren]7 Hand? Knüpfet sich kein Liebesknoten Zwischen Kind und Mutter an? Zwischen Lebenden und Todten Ist kein Bündniß aufgethan? Nein! Nicht ganz ist sie [entflohen]8, [Nein!]9 Wir sind nicht ganz getrennt! Haben uns die ewig Hohen Eine Sprache doch vergönnt! Wenn des Frühlings Kinder sterben, Wenn von Nordes kaltem Hauch Blatt und Blume sich entfärben, Traurig steht der nackte Strauch, Nehm ich mir das höchste Leben Aus Vertumnus reichem Horn, Opfernd es dem Styx zu geben, Mir des Saamens goldnes Korn. [Traurend]10 senk' ich's in die Erde, Leg' es an des Kindes Herz, Daß es eine Sprache werde Meiner Liebe, meinem Schmerz. Führt der [gleiche Tanz der]11 Horen Freudig nun den Lenz zurück, Wird das Todte neu gebohren Von der Sonne Lebensblick! Keime, die dem Auge starben In der Erde kaltem Schooß, In das heitre Reich der Farben Ringen sie sich freudig los. Wenn der Stamm zum Himmel [eilet]12, Sucht die Wurzel scheu die Nacht, Gleich in ihre Pflege [theilet]13 Sich des Styx, des Aethers Macht. Halb berühren sie der Todten, Halb der Lebenden Gebiet, Ach sie sind mir theure Boten Süße Stimmen vom Cozyt! Hält er [gleich sie]14 selbst verschlossen In dem schauervollen Schlund, Aus des Frühlings jungen Sprossen Redet mir der holde Mund, Daß auch fern vom goldnen Tage, Wo die Schatten traurig ziehn, Liebend noch der Busen schlage, Zärtlich noch die Herzen glühn. O so laßt euch froh begrüssen, Kinder der verjüngten Au, Euer Kelch soll überfließen Von des Nektars reinstem Thau. Tauchen will ich euch in Strahlen, Mit der Iris schönstem Licht Will ich eure Blätter mahlen Gleich Aurorens Angesicht. In des Lenzes heiterm Glanze Lese jede zarte Brust, In des Herbstes welkem Kranze Meinen Schmerz und meine Lust.
Confirmed with Gedichte von Friederich Schiller, Erster Theil, Leipzig, 1800, bey Siegfried Lebrecht Crusius, pages 5-11; and with Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1797, herausgegeben von Schiller. Tübingen, in der J.G.Cottaischen Buchhandlung, pages 34-41.
1 Schubert (printed editions, inadvertently): "deiner"2 Schubert (and 1810 edition of Schiller's poems): "Thräne"
3 Schubert: "Und träte"
4 Schiller (Musenalmanach): "trüb"
5 Schiller (Musenalmanach): "Pfad"
6 Schiller (Musenalmanach): "Fest bestehet Jovis Rath"
7 Schubert (Neue Gesamtausgabe): "von ihrer"
8 Schubert: "entfloh'n"
9 omitted by Schubert
10 Schubert (Alte Gesamtausgabe): "Trauernd"
11 Schubert (Neue Gesamtausgabe): "Tanz der gleichen"
12 Schubert: "eilt"
13 Schubert: "teilt"
14 Schubert: "sie gleich"
Text Authorship:
- by Friedrich von Schiller (1759 - 1805), "Klage der Ceres", written 1796, first published 1797 [author's text checked 2 times 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 Franz Peter Schubert (1797 - 1828), "Klage der Ceres", D 323 (1816), published 1895 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El plany de Ceres", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Klaagzang van Ceres", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Malcolm Wren) , "Lament of Ceres", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Plainte de Cérès", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Richard Morris , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 132
Word count: 654
Has beauteous spring appeared? Has the earth rejuvenated itself? The sunlit hills are becoming green And the surface of the ice is cracking. Out of the blue mirror of the streams The cloudless Zeus is laughing, Zephyrus's wings are beating more gently, The young sprigs are bursting with buds. Songs are awakening in the grove, And the Oread speaks: Your flowers are returning, Your daughter is not returning. Oh, how long has it been that I have been pacing around Searching through the fields of the Earth? Titan, all your rays of light, I have sent all your rays to track down the dear one; Noone has as yet given me any news Of her beloved face, And the day which finds all things Has not found the lost one. Zeus, have you snatched her from me, Stirred by her charm, has Pluto taken her to the black river of Orcus? Has Pluto abducted her? Who will go to that gloomy bank And be the messenger of my grief? The boat is endlessly pushing off from the land But it only ever takes on shadows. Hidden away from all blessed eyes Remains the nocturnal realm, And for as long as the Styx has been flowing It has never carried any living image. A thousand steps lead down there, But none lead back to daylight, No witnesses come to give evidence of her tears Before the anxious gaze of her mother. Mothers who are descended from Pyrrha Are born mortal, They are allowed to go through the flames of the grave To follow their beloved child; Only those who inhabit Jove's house Cannot approach the dark shore, Only the blessed ones are exempted, Parcae, by your strict hand. Throw me into the night of nights Out of the golden hall of heaven! Show no respect to my rights as a goddess, Oh, my distress is that of a mother! There, where with her dark spouse She is joylessly enthroned, that is where I would like to climb down to, And with a light shadow I want to step Gently before the Empress. Oh, her eyes, wet with tears Are searching in vain for the golden light, They are wandering off to distant spheres, But they do not fall on her mother - Until joy uncovers her, Until breast is united with breast, And, awakened to compassion, Even the rough river Orcus weeps. Pointless wish! Wasted laments! Calmly along the same track The secure chariot of day rolls on. The decision of Zeus stands for ever. Away from those darknesses He has turned his lucky head; Torn from me once during the night She now remains stolen from me for ever, Until the dark waves of the river Glow with Aurora's colours, And until Iris appears in the middle of hell Carrying her beautiful bow. Is nothing of her left for me? No sweet pledge left as a souvenir Showing that she still loves me from afar, No trace of her dear hand? Are there no love bonds tying The child up to her mother? Between the living and the dead, Has no connection been established? No, she has not fled away completely! We are not completely separated! The eternal powers above have In fact granted us a language! When the children of spring die, When, because of the cold breath of the north wind Leaves and flowers lose their colour, And the naked straw stands sadly, Then I take the highest life Out of Vertumnus's rich horn of plenty, Sacrificing it to offer it to the Styx, What to me is the golden corn of the seed, I lower it mournfully into the Earth And lay it on the child's heart, So that it will become a language, Expressing my love, my sorrow. Only when the regular dance of the Hours leads Spring joyfully back Will the dead be born anew Out of the living glance of the sun; Seeds which to the eye appeared to have died In the cold womb of the Earth, In the cheerful realm of colour They joyfully fight themselves free. As stems hurry up towards the sky The roots shyly search for the night, Sharing equally in their care Are the powers of the Styx and of the Ether. They are in contact half with the dead And half with the domain of the living - Oh, they are my dear messengers, Sweet voices of Cocytus. Even though he is still holding her captive In the dreadful abyss, Out of the young shoots of spring Her beauteous mouth is speaking to me; Telling me that although far away from golden days Where shadows fall sadly, Her breast is still beating with love, Hearts are still glowing affectionately. Oh, therefore let me greet you with delight, Children of the rejuvenated meadow, Your cup will overflow With nectar's purest dew. I shall bathe you all in rays; With Iris's most beautiful light I shall paint your petals To look like Aurora's face. In the cheerful gaze of spring Let each tender breast take note, In the withered garland of autumn let each breast take note of My sorrow and my pleasure.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2017 by Malcolm Wren, (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 Friedrich von Schiller (1759 - 1805), "Klage der Ceres", written 1796, first published 1797
This text was added to the website: 2017-07-14
Line count: 132
Word count: 862