by Gustav Falke (1853 - 1916)
Translation © by Elisabeth Siekhaus

Der ganze Himmel glüht
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG FRE
Der ganze Himmel glüht 
In hellen Morgenrosen;
Mit einem letzten, losen 
Traum noch im Gemüt,
Trinken meine Augen diesen Schein.
Wach und wacher, wie Genesungswein,
Und nun kommt von jenen Rosenhügeln
Glanz des Tags und Wehn von seinen Flügeln,
Kommt er selbst. Und alter Liebe voll,
Daß ich ganz an ihm genesen soll,
Gram der Nacht und was sich [sacht]1 verlor,
Ruft er mich an seine Brust empor.
Und die Wälder und die Felder klingen,
Und die Gärten heben an zu singen.
Fern und dumpf rauscht das erwachte Meer.
Segel seh' ich in die Sonnenweiten,
Weiße Segel, frischen Windes, gleiten,
Stille, goldne Wolken obenher.
Und im Blauen, sind es Wanderflüge?
Schweig o Seele! Hast du kein Genüge?
Sieh, ein Königreich hat dir der Tag verliehn.
Auf! [und]2 preise ihn!

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View original text (without footnotes)
1 A. Mahler: "sonst"
2 A. Mahler: "Dein Wirken"


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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Elisabeth Siekhaus) , title 1: "Harvest song", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , title 1: "Champ de moisson", copyright © 2011, (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: 22
Word count: 129

Harvest song
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
The whole sky glows 
in bright morning roses;
With one last loose dream 
still in my soul
My eyes drink in this light,
More and more awake, like the wine of health.
And now comes the glow of the day
From that hill of roses, and the stir of its wings,
Comes day itself, and filled with old love,
That through it I shall overcome
Grief of night and what else got lost,
Day calls me up to its bosom!
And as the woods and the fields ring
And the gardens begin to sing.
Far and dull the sea roars, awoken.
I see sails gliding into the sunny distance,
White sails of the fresh wind,
Quiet, golden clouds aloft, clouds above
And in the blueness are these migrant birds?
Be quiet, o soul, are you not satiated?
Look, a kingdom the day granted you.
Go!  Let your deeds praise it!  Ah!


  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2008 by Elisabeth Siekhaus, (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.

Based on:


This text was added to the website: 2008-04-04
Line count: 22
Word count: 151