by
Friedrich Hermann Frey (1839 - 1911), as Martin Greif
Vor einem grünen Walde,
Da liegt ein sanfter Rain,
Da sah ich auf der Halde
Ein rosig Mägdelein.
Das fährt mit ihrer blanken,
Geschliffnen Sichel 'rum
Und mähet in Gedanken
Die schönsten Blümlein um.
Kuckuck ruft immer weiter
Im Holz den ganzen Tag
Und alles prophezeit er,
Was ihr gefallen mag.
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Curt Beilschmidt (1886 - 1962), "Die Schnitterin", op. 11 no. 1, published 1906-1913 [ voice and piano ], from Launige Weisen für eine Singstimme mit Klavier, no. 1, Leipzig, Kahnt Nachfolger [sung text not yet checked]
- by Joseph Haas (1879 - 1960), "Die Schnitterin", op. 37 (Kuckucks-Lieder) no. 1, published 1912 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Eugen Haile (1873 - 1933), "Die Schnitterin", op. 4 (Lieder und Gesänge für 1 mittlere Stimme mit Pianoforte) no. 4, published 1901 [ medium voice and piano ], Stuttgart, Ebner [sung text not yet checked]
- by Fritz Jürgens (1888 - 1915), "Die Schnitterin", published 1911 [ voice and piano ], from 36 Gedichte von Martin Greif, no. 21? [sung text not yet checked]
- by Heinrich Kaspar Schmid (1874 - 1953), "Die Schnitterin", op. 21 (Drei Lieder für 3 Oberstimmen) no. 3, published 1912/13, first performed 1913 [ vocal trio for 3 sopranos a cappella ], Wunderhornverlag [sung text not yet checked]
- by Ernest Vietor (flourished 1905-1930), "Die Schnitterin", op. 14 no. 7 (1936) [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "The reaping girl", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2008-08-26
Line count: 12
Word count: 51
Before a green forest,
There lies a soft border [of grass]
There I saw on the hillside
A rosy maiden.
She thrashes about
With her shiny, sharp sickle,
Thoughtlessly mowing down
The most beautiful flowers.
The cuckoo continues to call
In the wood all day long,
And he foretells everything
That could please her.