Philoktet
Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: CAT DUT ENG FRE ITA
Da sitz' ich ohne Bogen
Und starre in den Sand.
Was that ich dir, Ulysses?
Daß du sie mir entwandt
Die Waffe, die [dem Feinde]1
Des Todes Bothe war;
Die auf der wüsten Insel
Mir Unterhalt gebar.
Es rauschen Vögelschwärme
Mir [übers greise]2 Haupt;
Ich greife nach dem Bogen -
Umsonst - er ist geraubt.
Aus dichtem Busche raschelt
Der braune Hirsch hervor:
Ich strecke leere Arme
Zur Nemesis empor.
Du schlauer König scheue
Der Göttin Rächerblick!
Erbarme dich - und stelle
Den Bogen mir zurück.
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• F. Schubert View original text (without footnotes)
Confirmed with Gedichte von Johann Mayrhofer. Wien. Bey Friedrich Volke. 1824, pages 152-153.
1 Schubert: "den Trojern"
2 Schubert: "über'm greisen"
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):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Filoctetes", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Philoctetes", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , "Philoctetes", copyright ©
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Philoctète", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Amelia Maria Imbarrato) , "Filottete", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Peter Rastl
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 83
Philoctète
Language: French (Français) after the German (Deutsch)
Je suis assis ici sans mon arc
et je regarde fixement dans le sable.
Que t'ai-je fait, Ulysse,
que tu aies voulu me voler ?
L'arme qui fut le messager
de la mort des Troyens,
M'a été donnée sur cette île déserte
pour ma subsistance.
Des vols d'oiseaux passent
au-dessus de ma tête grisonnante ;
Je saisis mon arc en vain,
car on me l'a volé !
De l'épais buisson
jaillit le cerf brun :
Je tends mes bras vides
vers Némésis en haut.
Toi roi rusé, crains le regard vengeur
de la déesse !
Aie pitié de moi
et rends-moi mon arc.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to French (Français) copyright © 2010 by Guy Laffaille, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-02-03
Line count: 20
Word count: 98