Der Gebirgssohn
Language: German (Deutsch)
Available translation(s): ENG
Ein Jäger bin ich flink und frisch,
Die Berge sind mein Haus;
Die grüne Alpe ist mein Tisch
Mit manchem duft'gen Strauß.
Der Gemse folg' ich manchen Tag,
Hab' oft bei Nacht nicht Rast;
Und, wie ich auch mich plagen mag,
So ist mir's keine Last.
Im Thale drunten wird mir weh,
Vom Herzen fehlt ein Stück;
Und, wenn ich dort die Liebste seh',
Ist's nur ein halbes Glück.
Da brennt mein Rohr mir in der Hand,
Da glüht mir das Gesicht;
Hab', eh' ich's weiß, den Hahn gespannt,
Kann ruhig sitzen nicht.
Und, soll ich athmen, muß ich gehn
Bergwärts zurück geschwind
Und von der Steilwand niedersehn,
Umbraust vom Morgenwind.
Dann seh' ich mir die Gipfel an,
Und merk' mir Weg und Steg,
Wo man herunterschießen kann,
Kommt einst der Feind den Weg.
Und, denk' ich dran, da glüht mein Herz,
Erwarten kann ich's kaum;
Und andre Lust und andrer Schmerz
Erscheint mir wie ein Traum.
Confirmed with C. Reinhold, Gedichte, Stuttgart: Carl Mäcken, 1853, pages 111-112.
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) , "The son of the mountains", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2021-03-31
Line count: 28
Word count: 158
The son of the mountains
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch)
I am a hunter, fleet and brisk,
The mountains are my home;
The green alp is my table
With many a scented bouquet.
I follow the mountain goat for many days,
Often I take no rest by night;
And although I may toil and labour,
I find it to be no burden.
When I am down in the valley, I suffer;
A piece of my heart is missing;
And when I see my beloved down there,
I am only half happy.
My rifle burns in my hand,
My visage glows;
Before I know it, I have cocked the gun,
I cannot sit still.
And if I am to breathe, I must go
Back up the mountain quickly
And gaze down from the steep rock-face,
With the morning wind storming about me.
Then I inspect the mountaintops,
And make a note of the track and path
Where one can shoot down from above
When someday the enemy comes along.
And if I think of it, my heart blazes,
I can hardly wait:
And other joy and other sorrow
Seems to me to be a dream.
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2021 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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Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2021-04-04
Line count: 28
Word count: 185