Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.
It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.
To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net
If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.
Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.
Der schönste Tannenbaum, den ich gesehn, Das war ein Freiheitsbaum von sechzig Ellen, Am Schützenfest, im Wipfel Purpurwehn, Aus seinem Stamme flossen klare Wellen. Vier Röhren gossen den lebend'gen Quell In die granitgehaune runde Schale; Die braunen Schützen drängten sich zur Stell Und schwenkten ihre silbernen Pokale. Unübersehbar schwoll die Menschenflut, Von allen Enden schallten Männerchöre; Vom Himmelszelt floß Julisonnenglut, Erglühnd ob meines Vaterlandes Ehre. Dicht im Gedräng, dort an des Beckens Rand, Sang laut ich mit, ein fünfzehnjähr'ger Junge; Mir gegenüber an dem Brunnen stand Ein zierlich Mädchen von roman'scher Zunge. Sie kam aus der Grisonen letztem Tal, Trug Alpenrosen in den schwarzen Flechten Und füllte ihres Vaters Siegpokal, Drein schien ihr Aug gleich Sommersternennächten. Sie ließ in kindlich unbefangner Ruh Vom hellen Quell den Becher überfließen, Sah drin dem Widerspiel der Sonne zu, Bis ihr gefiel, den vollen auszugießen. Dann mich gewahrend, warf sie wohlgemut Aus ihrem Haar ein Röslein in den Bronnen, Erregt im Wasser eine Wellenflut, Bis ich erfreut den Blumengruß gewonnen. Ich fühlte da die junge Freiheitslust, Des Vaterlandes Lieb im Herzen keimen; Es wogt' und rauscht' in meiner Knabenbrust Wie Frühlingssturm in hohen Tannenbäumen.
Authorship:
- by Gottfried Keller (1819 - 1890), appears in Gesammelte Gedichte, in Lebendig begraben, no. 13 [author's text not yet checked 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 Othmar Schoeck (1886 - 1957), "Der schönste Tannenbaum, den ich gesehn", op. 40 no. 13 (1926) [bass or baritone, mixed chorus, and orchestra], from Lebendig begraben: 14 Gesänge nach der gleichnamigen Gedichtfolge von Gottfried Keller, no. 13, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Martin Stock) , title 1: "The most beautiful fir tree I ever saw", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , title 1: "Le plus beau sapin que j'ai vu", copyright © 2010, (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: 32
Word count: 190
The most beautiful fir tree I ever saw was a freedom tree, 40 feet tall, at a shooting festival, with purple ribbons fluttering way up high, clear waves flowing from its trunk. From four pipes the living spring was flowing into the round bowl of chiselled granite; Tanned marksmen were crowding around it, waving their silver goblets. The crowd became a mass from everywhere men's choirs were heard; A scorching July sun filled the skies, shining brightly in praise of my fatherland. Amidst the crowd, close to the bowl's rim, I sang out loud, a boy of fifteen years, At the far side of the spring there stood a tender maid of Romansh tongue. She came from the Grisons' last valley, her dark braids adorned with Alp Roses. She was filling the goblet her father had won, her eyes shining like starry nights in summer. Undisturbed, filled with the calmness of a child, she let the water flow over the beaker's rim, watched the sun's reflection in it until she felt like pouring it out again. When she saw me she merrily threw a rose she had picked from her hair into the well, stirred the water and made it ripple until I happily reached out for the flower greeting. It was then that I felt the young urge for freedom, the love for my fatherland well up in my heart; My boy's chest heaved and hurt - like a springtime storm blowing through tall fir trees.
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2004 by Martin Stock, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Gottfried Keller (1819 - 1890), appears in Gesammelte Gedichte, in Lebendig begraben, no. 13
This text was added to the website: 2004-04-10
Line count: 32
Word count: 247