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.
Willst schwüle Luft, du nicht zergeh'n, Wollüstiges Murmeln im Felsenspalt? Wie tief betäubt mich der Blumen Weh'n, Die Nachtigall schlagend im Wald! Es sprizt das Meer am Vorgebirg auf, Die Meerfrau'n locken den trunkenen Sinn. Und Städte, Gärten, [in buntem]1 Lauf Führen die Wolken dahin. O süßes Klingen! o herrliche Schau Unendlicher Fülle - wohin? woher? Mein Auge drückt' selig ein schläfernder Thau. Was [hofft' ich, was wünscht']2 ich mehr? Was der Frühling gibt, was der Sommer schafft, Was die Seele begehrt , da ist es zur Hand. Ein fremdes Geschlecht, voll Anmuth und Kraft, Da bewegt sich's ohne Gewand. Wie beflügelt ein Sturmesgesang mein Blut! Komm, zeige dich nackt, holdselige Lust! O lös' nicht in Thau mich, schmelzende Gluth, Eh ich Leben gepreßt an die Brust! Frag, Schönheit, nicht nach Gesetz, nach Scheu; Ergib Dich plötzlich, ergib Dich ganz! Du gehörst nicht der Dauer, gehörst nicht der Treu,-- Der Tod ist Dein süßester Glanz. Im Lächeln stürze die Thräne hervor, Und Leben an Leben verbrenne sich schnell, Dann jauchzen [vereint]3 die Geister empor, Ein sonnetrunkener Quell. O sel'ger Gestalten betäubende Macht. Die Arme streck' ich glühend hinaus. O hemmet des Fluges verworrene Pracht! Am Busen ruhet mir aus!-- Sie schwinden dahin, ein leuchtender Schaum. Meine Seele verschmachtet, zerstückt ist mein Sinn. Und stille wirds im unendlichen Raum. Weh mir! Wo rett ich mich hin? Der Herr sieht mich an mit dem Auge der Nacht. Er ruft. Antworten kann ich ihm nicht. O Hölle, wo ist Deine Zaubermacht? Mein Herz in der Tiefe zerbricht. Da schwebt durch den Aether ein seliges Lied, Wie aus reinem [Krystall]4, aus jungfräulicher Brust. Erlößt schau' ich auf, und vorüber zieht Maria, der Himmel Lust.
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)Confirmed with: C. Reinhold, Die Geschichte von dem spanischen Baumeister, Stuttgart: Imle und Krauß, 1837, pages 75-77.
1 Saint-Julien: "im bunten"2 Saint-Julien: "hoff ich, was wünsch"
3 Saint-Julien: "die Geister,"
4 Saint-Julien: "Christall"
Authorship:
- by Christian Reinhold (1813 - 1856), no title, appears in Die Geschichte von dem spanischen Baumeister, first published 1837 [author's text checked 1 time 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 Heinrich Friedrich von Saint-Julien (1801 - 1844), "Juanas Lied", published 1838 [ voice and piano ], in Europa. Chronik der gebildeten Welt, I. Band, Sechste Lieferung [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Juana's song", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2015-06-09
Line count: 44
Word count: 281
Humid air, do you not wish to dissipate, [And] you sensuous murmuring in the rocky fissure? How deeply I am benumbed by the wafting of the flowers, By the jugging of the nightingale in the wood! The ocean is spraying upon the promontory, The mermaids entice my intoxicated senses. And in colourful passage, cities, gardens Are carried off by the clouds. Oh sweet ringing! oh glorious pageant Of boundless abundance -- whither? whence? A sleep-inducing dew presses blessedly upon my eyes. What more [could]1 I hope for, what more wish for? What spring proffers, what summer creates, What the soul desires, it is at hand. A foreign race, full of delight and power, There it moves without garments. How the song of a storm quickens my blood! Come, show yourself ungarbed, fair pleasure! Oh, melting fervour, do not dissolve me into dew Before I have pressed life to my bosom! Beauty, ask not after law, after modesty; Surrender yourself suddenly, surrender yourself utterly! You do not belong to permanence, do not belong to faithfulness, -- Death is your sweetest radiance. May the tear burst forth smilingly, And may life be consumed in flames by life, [United then, the spirits rise rejoicingly]2, A sun-intoxicated well-spring. Oh numbing power of blessed figures. Fervently, I stretch my arms out. Oh, check the confused splendour of your flight! Rest upon my bosom! -- They disappear, a radiant foam. My soul languishes, my senses are scattered. And it grows quiet in the infinite expanse. Woe unto me! Whither shall I go to save myself? The Lord looks at me with the eye of night. He calls. I cannot answer Him. Oh hell, where is your magical power? My heart breaks in the depths. Then a blessed song wafts through the aether, As if from pure crystal, from a virginal breast. Saved, I gaze upward, and before me passes Mary, the joy of Heaven.
1 Saint-Julien: "do"
2 Saint-Julien: "then the spirits, the spirits rise rejoicingly"
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2021 by Sharon Krebs, (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 Christian Reinhold (1813 - 1856), no title, appears in Die Geschichte von dem spanischen Baumeister, first published 1837
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-18
Line count: 44
Word count: 316