Die Rose
Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: CAT DUT ENG FRE
Es lockte schöne Wärme,
Mich an das Licht zu wagen,
Da brannten wilde Gluthen:
Das muß ich ewig klagen.
Ich konnte lange blühen
In milden heitern Tagen;
Nun muß ich frühe welken,
Dem Leben schon entsagen.
Es kam die Morgenröthe,
Da ließ ich alles Zagen
Und öffnete die Knospe,
Wo alle Reize lagen.
Ich konnte freundlich duften,
Und meine Krone tragen,
Da ward zu heiß die Sonne,
Die muß ich drum verklagen.
Was soll der milde Abend?
Muß ich nun traurig fragen.
Er kann mich nicht mehr retten,
Die Schmerzen nicht verjagen.
Die Röthe ist verblichen,
Bald wird mich Kälte nagen.
Mein kurzes junges Leben
Wollt' ich noch sterbend sagen.
Confirmed with Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1802. Herausgegeben von A. W. Schlegel und L. Tieck. Tübingen, in der Cotta'schen Buchhandlung, 1802, pages 139-140; and with Friedrich Schlegel's sämmtliche Werke. Erster Band. Gedichte. Berlin, bei Julius Eduard Hitzig, 1809, page 18.
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) , "La rosa", copyright © 2018, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "De roos", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ENG English (T. P. (Peter) Perrin) , "The rose", copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "La rose", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Richard Morris , Peter Rastl
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 110
The rose
Language: English after the German (Deutsch)
Warmth, beguiling, lured me
to dare to risk the light,
where heat's fire burned so fiercely
I'm forced to grieve forever.
My bloom could have been long-lasting
had the days been bright and clear.
Now I quickly must wither,
life too soon forgone.
At the break of dawn
I relinquished all my shyness
and opened up the bud
where all my charms lay hidden.
Benignly I could scent
the air, and lift my crown . . .
The sun there grew too hot,
for which I must indict it.
What good is the mild evening?
I now must sadly ask;
it can no longer save me
or chase away my pain.
The sunset glow has vanished,
I'll soon be nipped by cold.
Dying, I still wished to tell
the tale of my brief young life.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2011 by T. P. (Peter) Perrin, (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: 2011-08-21
Line count: 24
Word count: 135