by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
Translation © by Malcolm Wren

Ein Irrsal kam in die Mondscheingärten
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG FRE
Ein Irrsal kam in die Mondscheingärten
Einer einst heiligen Liebe. 
Schaudernd entdeckt' ich verjährten Betrug. 
Und mit weinendem Blick, doch grausam,
Hieß ich das schlanke,
Zauberhafte Mädchen
Ferne gehen von mir. 
Ach, ihre hohe Stirn,
War gesenkt, denn sie liebte mich;
Aber sie zog mit Schweigen
Fort in die graue 
Welt hinaus. 

Krank seitdem,
Wund ist und wehe mein Herz. 
Nimmer wird es genesen! 

Als ginge, luftgesponnen, ein Zauberfaden
Von ihr zu mir, ein ängstig Band,
So zieht es, zieht mich schmachtend ihr nach! 
-- Wie? Wenn ich eines Tags auf meiner Schwelle
Sie sitzen fände, wie einst, im Morgen-Zwielicht,
Das Wanderbündel neben ihr,
Und ihr Auge, treuherzig zu mir aufschauend, 
Sagte, da bin ich wieder
Hergekommen aus weiter Welt!

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with Mörike, Eduard Friedrich. Gesammelte Schriften, Erster Band, G. J. Göschen'sche Verlagshandlung, 1878, pages 135-136.


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):

  • ENG English (Malcolm Wren) , "Peregrina", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: John Versmoren

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 119

Peregrina
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Something wrong entered the moonlit gardens
of a once sacred love.
I trembled when I discovered a long-past betrayal
and with a tearful but cruel look
I told the slim
enchanting girl
to take herself off away from me.
Oh, her high forehead
sank down, for she loved me;
but silently away she went,
off into the grey world.

Sick since then,
my heart has been wounded and in pain.
It will never heal!

It is as if there were a magical thread, spun by the air,
from her to me, a connecting anxiety,
a pull, drawing me, pining, back to her.
How? If only one day on my doorstep
I were to find her sitting, as once before, in the morning twilight, 
her travelling things next to her,
and her eye, looking at me trueheartedly, 
would say, 

"Here I am again,
I've come back from the wide world."

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2005 by Malcolm Wren, (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: 2005-04-11
Line count: 24
Word count: 149