by Rudolph von Gottschall (1823 - 1909)
Translation by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

Marie, am Fenster sitzest du
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG
Marie, am Fenster sitzest du,
Du [einfach Bürgerkind]1,
Und siehst dem Spiel der Blüthen zu,
Verweht im Abendwind.

Der [Bürger]2, der vorüber geht,
Er lüftet fromm den Hut.
Du bist ja selbst, wie ein Gebet,
So fromm, so schön, so gut.

Die Blumenaugen seh'n empor
Zu deiner Augen Licht!
Die schönste Blum' im Fensterflor
Ist doch dein Angesicht.

Ihr Abendglocken, grüßet sie
Mit süßer Melodie!
O brech' der Sturm die [Blumen]3 nie,
Und nie dein Herz, Marie!

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Rudolph Gottschall, Die Göttin. Ein Hoheslied vom Weibe, Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1853, page 27

1 Jensen: "liebes, süßes Kind"
2 Jensen: "Wandrer"
3 Jensen: "Blume"

Authorship

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

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

  • Also set in English, a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist ; composed by Charles Edward Ives.

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

  • ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Research team for this text: Peter Donderwinkel , Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2017-06-10 20:46:29
Line count: 16
Word count: 77

Marie
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Marie, I see thee fairest one,
as in a garden fair.
Before thee flowers and blossoms play
tossed by soft evening air.

The pilgrim passing on his way,
Bows low before thy shrine;
Thou art, my child, like one sweet prayer,
So good, so fair, so pure almost divine.

How sweetly now the flowrets raise
their eyes to thy dear glance;
The fairest flower on which I gaze
is thy dear countenace.

The evening bells are greeting thee,
With sweetest melody,
O may no storm e'er crush thy flowers,
Or break thy heart, Marie!

Authorship

Based on

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


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website: 2003-12-19 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:02
Line count: 16
Word count: 94