by Rudolph Baumbach (1840 - 1905)
Translation © by Sharon Krebs

Die Schul' ist aus
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG
Die Schul' ist aus, die Schul' ist aus!
Und aus der dumpfen Stuben 
Schwärmt kunterbunt das Volk hinaus 
Der Mädel und der Buben. 
Der Lehrer wischt die Brille ab, 
Es rastet sein Präzeptorstab. 

Es johlt und schreit und lärmt der Schwarm 
Der jungen Dorfstudenten. 
Die Mädel laufen Arm in Arm 
Und schnattern wie die Enten. 
Nehmt euch in Acht, dass keines fällt! 
Die Schiefertafeln kosten Geld. 

Zuletzt kommt Einer träg und faul; 
Der Arme scheint zu hinken. 
Er macht ein breites Jammermaul, 
Und seine Augen blinken. 
Er winselt leise ach und oh, --
Ich wett' das kommt vom Bakulo. 

Du armer Bub', du thust mir leid, 
Doch nimm dir's nicht zu Herzen. 
Du wirst dein Weh in kurzer Zeit 
Verwinden und verschmerzen. 
Nimmt dich das Schicksal in die Lehr',
Mein Sohn, dann geht es schärfer her.

Das Schicksal ist ein Schultyrann, 
Und einer von den schlimmsten. 
Dem Klugen hängt's den Esel an, 
Zum Primus macht's den Dümmsten, 
Und unerbittlich schwingt's ein Rohr, 
Das kommt uns Armen spanisch vor. 

Confirmed with Rudolf Baumbach, Von der Landstrasse, Zweites Tausen, Leipzig: Verlag von A. G. Liebeskind, 1882, pages 98-99.


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 (Sharon Krebs) , "School is out", copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2020-03-06
Line count: 30
Word count: 167

School is out
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
School is out, school is out!
And from the frowsty rooms
The crowd of girls and boys
Swarms colourfully out.
The teacher wipes his glasses,
The preceptor's rod rests.

The swarm of the young students of the village
Yells and screams and makes much noise.
The girls run arm in arm
And gabble like geese.
Take care that none of you falls!
Slates cost money.

Finally one comes along, sluggish and lazy;
The poor chap seems to be limping.
He opens his wailing maw widely,
And his eyes blink.
Quietly he whimpers ah and oh, -- 
I bet that is a result of the bishop's rod.

You poor lad, I am sorry for you,
But do not take it so to heart.
Within a short time you shall
Get over your pain.
When fate takes you into its apprenticeship,
My son, then things shall go more harshly.

Fate is a school-tyrant,
And one of the worst of the them.
It makes a donkey of the clever one,
It places the stupidest at the head of the class,
And mercilessly it swings a cane
In such a way that it’s all Greek to us poor ones.

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2020 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.
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This text was added to the website: 2020-03-14
Line count: 30
Word count: 194