by Christian Schreiber (1781 - 1857)
Translation © by Sharon Krebs

Traum am Bache
Language: German (Deutsch) 
Available translation(s): ENG
Auf blühender Haiden, am einsamen Bach,
Da sann ich dem Spiele der Wellen oft nach;
Es murmelt die Quelle, es rauschet der Wind,
Wie Wind und wie Wasser das Leben verrinnt.

   Doch nimmer erschöpft sich, und ewig quillt
Die Fülle der Wogen, der Menschlichkeit Bild,
Und ewig aus heiliger Urne fleußt
Die Kraft der Naturen, der würkende Geist.

   Er bildet das Leben mit reger Gewalt,
Und wandelt die Formen zu hoher Gestalt;
Er gattet die Blüthen zu himmlischem Bund,
Und spricht aus der Töne melodischem Mund.

   Wohl sann ich am flutenden rauschenden Bach
Oft träumend dem Spiele der Wellen nach;
Ein Spiel ist das Leben, ein Tropfen die Zeit,
Die Stunde das Bild der Vergangenheit!

   Und pflückte manch Blümchen, und warf es hinein,
Und mischte die Thräne der Sehnsucht darein;
Das Blümchen floß leise die Fluten hinab,
Die Thräne versank in dem wogigen Grab!

   So schwinden die Freuden des Lebens dahin,
Doch dauert im Wechsel der menschliche Sinn;
Und weit hinaus über die Fluten der Zeit
Ragt menschliche Kraft und Beständigkeit.

Confirmed with Gedichte von Christian Schreiber, Erster Band, Berlin: bei Heinrich Frölich, 1805, pages 16-17.

Note: The first line is not indented as the first lines of the other stanzas are.

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) , "Dream by the brook", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2013-12-16
Line count: 24
Word count: 171

Dream by the brook
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch) 
On blooming meadows, by the lonely brook,
I often pondered the play of the waves;
The water spring murmurs, the wind soughs,
Like wind and waves life passes away.

   But never exhausted eternally springs
The abundance of the waves, humanity's image,
And eternally from out the holy urn flows
The power of all nature, the creatively active spirit.

  He builds life with brisk power,
And transforms common shapes into lofty ones;
He gathers the blossoms into heavenly bouquets,
And speaks through the melodic lips of musical tones.

  On the banks of the flowing, rushing stream
I often pondered the play of the waves;
Life is a game, time is a drop,
The hour is the image of the past!

   And I picked many a little flower and threw it into the water,
Mingled with a tear of longing;
The flower quietly drifted down the flowing water,
The tear sank away in the tomb of the waves!

   Thus the joys of life vanish,
But the human spirit endures amidst all the changes;
And far beyond the floodwaters of time
Towers human strength and steadfastness.

Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 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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This text was added to the website: 2013-12-16
Line count: 24
Word count: 183