Translation © by Emily Ezust

Gesang der Apollopriesterin
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): CAT DUT ENG FRE
Es ist der Tag, wo jedes Leid vergessen.
Ihr Schwestern, horcht: der Heilige ist nah.
Er meldet sich im Rauschen der Cypressen,
Und unsre Pflicht steht winkend vor uns da.

Wir lassen ihm den dunklen Sang erschallen,
Daß seine schöne Sonne niedertaut,
Wir ziehn um seine weißen Säulenhallen,
Und jede ist geschmückt wie eine Braut.

Seht, unten, wo die kühlen Bäche fließen,
Dort wandeln heut' in Nacktheit Mann und Frau;
Sie trinken selig Duft und Klang der Wiesen,
Und alle blicken sie zum hohen Blau.

Und alle jauchzen sie, und alle pflücken
Die großen Freudenblüten dieser Welt.
Wir aber wollen nach der Frucht uns bücken,
Die golden zwischen Traum und Wachen fällt.

Wir bringen sie in einer Silberschale
Zum Tempel hin, dicht neben Speer und Schild.
Wir knieen nieder: Dufte, Frucht, und strahle
Dem Volk entgegen sein verklärtes Bild!

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) , "Cant de la sacerdotessa d’Apol•lo", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Gezang van de priesteres van Apollo", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "Song of the priestess of Apollo", copyright © 2014
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Chant de la prêtresse d'Apollon", copyright © 2014, (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: 20
Word count: 139

Song of the priestess of Apollo
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
This is the day when every sorrow is forgotten.
You Sisters, listen: the holy one is near.
The rustling of cypresses announces him,
And our duty beckons.

We sing to him our dark, resounding song,
So that his fine sun will shine thawing down;
We move around his white, pillared temple,
And each of us is robed like a bride.

Look below where the cool streams run;
There man and wife roam today in nakedness.
Blissfully they drink in the scents and sounds of the meadows,
And all gaze up into the blue heights.

And all rejoice, and all gather
This world's great blossoms of joy.
We, however, will bend down to take the fruit
that falls, golden, between dreaming and waking.

We bring it in a silver basin
To the temple, beside the spear and the shield.
We kneel down. Spread your fragrance, o fruit, and shine forth
to the people his glorified image!

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2014 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 -- https://www.lieder.net/

    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: 2014-05-19
Line count: 20
Word count: 155