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Zieht hier ein Krieger stolz geschmücket, Den Hut ins Auge tief gedrücket, Mit bloßem Schwerdt vor seinen Reihn, So wünsch ich ein Soldat zu seyn: Doch soll der Zug nach Böhmen gehen, Wo bärtige Panduren stehen, Die mit verdammten Messern dräun; So wünsch ich, kein Soldat zu seyn. Wenn schmetternd die Trompete klinget, Die Freud aus rauhen Kehlen singet, Und muthge Rosse wiehernd schreyn, So wünsch ich ein Soldat zu seyn: Doch wenn sie keine Menschheit fühlen, Nach Köpfen, wie nach Scheiben zielen, Ihr junges Leben nicht bereun, So wünsch ich, kein Soldat zu seyn. Wenn sie in volle Keller brechen, Und brüderlich zusammen zechen, Im Ungarn oder an dem Rhein, So wünsch ich ein Soldat zu seyn: Doch wenn sie sich zu frech bezeigen, Und kühn auf Wäll' und Mauern steigen, Wo plumpe Mörser Feuer speyn, So wünsch ich, kein Soldat zu seyn. Wenn Mädchen vor Croaten beben, Und sich in ihren Schutz begeben, Den sie den Mädchen gern verleihn, So wünsch ich ein Soldat zu seyn. Doch wenn, den Raub davon zu tragen, Sie sich darum mit Säbeln schlagen, Sich nie der Beute sicher freun, So wünsch ich, kein Soldat zu seyn.
Authorship:
- by Christian Felix Weisse (1726 - 1804) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Josef Antonín Štěpán (1726 - 1797), "Der Soldat", published 1778-9. [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "The soldier", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2008-06-14
Line count: 32
Word count: 194
When a soldier passes, proudly arrayed, His hat pressed deep over his eyes, With a naked sword before his ranks, Then I wish I were a soldier: But when the regiment is dispatched to Bohemia, Where bearded guerrilla fighters stand, Who threaten with infernal knives; Then I wish not to be a soldier. When the trumpet rings out like a clarion, Joy sings out from rough throats, And courageous horses cry out with a neigh, Then I wish I were a soldier: But when they feel no humanity, And aim at heads, exactly as they do at targets, Have no regrets about their young lives, Then I wish not to be a soldier. When they burst into full cellars, And carouse together like brothers, Whether in Hungary or along the Rhine, Then I wish I were a soldier: But when they show themselves to be too cheeky, And audaciously climb ramparts and walls, Where squat cannons spew forth fire, Then I wish not to be a soldier. When maidens tremble before Croats, And consign themselves to [the soldiers'] protection, Which they gladly grant the maidens, Then I wish I were a soldier. But when, in order to cart off the booty, They fight each other over it with sabres, Are never happy about the spoils, Then I wish not to be a soldier.
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2010 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:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Christian Felix Weisse (1726 - 1804)
This text was added to the website: 2010-06-20
Line count: 32
Word count: 223