by Johann Ludwig Uhland (1787 - 1862)
Translation © by John H. Campbell

An jedem Abend geh' ich aus
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): CAT ENG FRE
An jedem Abend geh' ich aus
Hinauf den Wiesensteg.
Sie schaut aus ihrem Gartenhaus,
Es stehet hart am Weg.
Wir haben uns noch nie bestellt,
Es ist nur so der Lauf der Welt.

Ich weiß nicht, wie es so geschah,
Seit lange küss' ich sie,
Ich bitte nicht, sie sagt nicht: ja!
Doch sagt sie: nein! auch nie.
Wenn Lippe gern auf Lippe ruht,
Wir hindern's nicht, uns dünkt es gut.

Das Lüftchen mit der Rose spielt,
Es fragt nicht: hast mich lieb?
Das Röschen sich am Taue kühlt,
Es sagt nicht lange: gib!
Ich liebe sie, sie liebet mich,
Doch keines sagt: ich liebe dich!

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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):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (John H. Campbell) , "The way of the world", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "La course du monde", copyright © 2008, (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: 18
Word count: 106

The way of the world
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
 Each evening I go out,
 over the meadow-path.
 She looks out from her summerhouse,
 which stands by the pathway.
 We have never questioned this,
 it is just the way things are.
 
 I don't know how it happened so,
 for a long time I kiss her,
 I don't ask, she doesn't say yes,
 however, she also never says no.
 If lips like to rest on lips,
 we forbid them not, it pleases us well.
 
 The little breeze plays with the rose,
 it doesn't ask: do you love me?
 The little grasses are chilled by the dew,
 they don't often say: stop!
 I love her, she loves me,
 however neither says: I love you!

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by John H. Campbell, (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

 

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 113