by Eduard Mörike (1804 - 1875)
Translation © by Ferdinando Albeggiani

Der Genesene an die Hoffnung
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): CAT ENG FRE FRE ITA
Tödtlich graute mir der Morgen:
Doch schon lag mein Haupt, wie süß!
Hoffnung, dir im Schoß verborgen,
bis der Sieg gewonnen hieß,
bis der Sieg gewonnen hieß.

Opfer bracht' ich allen Göttern,
Doch vergessen warest du;
Seitwärts von den ew'gen Rettern
Sahest du dem Feste zu.

O, vergieb, du Vielgetreue!
Tritt aus deinem Dämmerlicht,
Daß ich dir in's ewig neue,
Mondenhelle Angesicht

Einmal schaue, recht von Herzen,
Wie ein Kind und sonder Harm;
Ach, nur Einmal ohne Schmerzen
schließe mich in deinen Arm!

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):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El convalescent a l’esperança", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Iain Sneddon) , "The Convalescent addresses Hope", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Le convalescent à l'espoir", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Stéphane Goldet) (Pierre de Rosamel) , "Le convalescent à l'Espérance", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Il malato risanato alla speranza", copyright © 2008, (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: 17
Word count: 83

Il malato risanato alla speranza
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the German (Deutsch) 
L'alba ancora mi parlava di morte:
ma già il mio capo dolcemente giaceva,
Speranza, affondato nel tuo grembo,
Fino a quando si parlò di vittoria
Fino a quando si parlò di vittoria.
 
Feci offerte a tutti gli dei,
ma tu fosti dimenticata,
a fianco degli eterni salvatori
assistevi alla festa.
 
Oh, perdona, tu la più fedele!
Esci dalla penombra
Affinché nel tuo volto 
Sempre nuovo, chiaro come la luna,
 
possa posare una volta il mio sguardo,
con tutto il cuore, come un bimbo senza affanno; 
solo una volta, senza dolore,
tienimi stretto fra le tue braccia!

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2008 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (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: 2008-08-26
Line count: 17
Word count: 96