by Paul Fleming (1609 - 1640)
Translation © by Emily Ezust

An die Stolze
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): DUT ENG FRE
Und gleichwohl kann ich anders nicht,
Ich muß ihr günstig sein,
Obgleich der Augen stolzes Licht
Mir mißgönnt seinen Schein.
Ich will, ich soll, ich soll, ich muß dich lieben,
Dadurch wir beid' uns nur betrüben,
Weil mein Wunsch doch nicht gilt
Und du nicht hören wilt.

Wie manchen Tag, wie manche Nacht,
Wie manche liebe Zeit
Hab' ich mit Klagen durchgebracht,
Und du verlachst mein Leid!
Du weißt, du hörst, du hörst, du siehst die Schmerzen,
Und nimmst der' keinen doch zu Herzen,
So daß ich zweifle fast,
Ob du ein Herze hast.

Bist du denn harter Stein und Stahl
Die man doch zwingen kann?
Feld, Wiesen, Wälder, Berg und Tal
Seh'n meine Wehmut an.
Die Vögel seufzen, was ich klage.
Der hohle Busch ruft, was ich sage.
Du nur, du Stolze du,
Hältst Ohr und Augen zu.

Ach denke, denke, was du tust.
Ich kann nicht anders sein.
Ich hab' an meinem Leiden Lust,
Du hassest meine Pein.
Kann ich denn keine Huld erlangen,
So laß' mich die Gunst nur empfangen
Und wolle doch mit mir,
Daß ich stracks sterbe hier.

J. Brahms sets stanzas 1-2

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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Emily Ezust) , title 1: "To the proud woman", copyright ©
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , title 1: "Aan de trotse", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , title 1: "À la fière", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:28
Line count: 32
Word count: 183

To the proud woman
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
Nevertheless, I can do nothing else:
I must be well-disposed to her,
even if her eyes' proud light
begrudges me their shine.
I will, I should, I should, I must love you;
therefore, we both will be unhappy,
for my wish is in vain,
and you do not wish to hear it.

How many days, how many nights,
how much lovely time
have I spent in lamentation,
and you laugh at my grief!
You know, you hear, you hear and see my pain,
and take none of it to heart,
so that I am tempted to doubt
whether you even have a heart.

Are you then harder than stone or steel
that one can compel?
Field, meadow, forests, mountain and valley
all watch my sorrow.
The birds sigh when I lament.
The empty bushes echo when I speak.
You only, you proud woman you,
keep closed your ears and eyes.

Ah, think, think what you are doing.
I cannot do anything differently.
I have an odd pleasure in my sorrow:
You hate my pain.
If then I can obtain no favor,
then let me receive good will,
and then let me
immediately die here.

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © by Emily Ezust

    Emily Ezust permits her translations to be reproduced without prior permission for printed (not online) programs to free-admission concerts only, provided the following credit is given:

    Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
    from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

    For any other purpose, please write to the e-mail address below to request permission and discuss possible fees.


Based on

 

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:28
Line count: 32
Word count: 194