by Ilse von Stach-Lerner (1879 - 1941)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

An die Mark
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Our translations:  ENG ITA
Bereifte Kiefern, atemlose Seen,
Die träumen einem dunklen Auge gleich
In ew'ger Sehnsucht von des Frühlings Reich;
Und drüber hin ein schwarzer Zug von Kräh'n.

Viel junges Leben will die Sonne sehn.
Da sitzt die Schwermut schon am Waldesrand
Und schreibt geheime Zeichen in den Sand,
Kein Frühlingssturm wird ihre Schrift verweh'n.

Und eines Tages kommt der junge Mai;
Und dennoch - unter glückverlor'nen Küßen
Lebt ein Bewußtsein, daß wir sterben müssen,
Daß alles nur ein Traum und schmerzlich sei.

Dies Land, da Wunsch und Hoffnung selig sind,
Und doch in ihrem rätselvollen Wesen
Von stiller Trauer niemals zu erlösen,
Dies Land ist meine Heimat und ich bin sein Kind.

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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , title 1: "To the March of Brandenburg", copyright ©
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , title 1: "Alla Marca di Brandenburgo", copyright © 2009, (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: 16
Word count: 109

To the March of Brandenburg
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
 Frost-covered pines, breathless lakes:
 they dream like dark eyes
 in eternal longing for spring's kingdom;
 and up above, a dark procession of crows.

 Many young lives does the sun see.
 Melancholy sits already at the edge of the forest
 and writes mysterious signs in the sand;
 no spring storm will erase its work.

 And one day comes the youthful May;
 and yet - even during the joyous abandon of kisses,
 there lives the awareness that we must die -
 that all is but a dream, full of pain.

 This land, where desire and hope are blessed,
 and yet, in their riddle-like way,
 are not to be rescued entirely from quiet sorrow -
 this land is my home and I am its child.

Text Authorship:

  • 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: 16
Word count: 119