by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
Translation © by Bertram Kottmann

Nature, the gentlest mother
Language: English 
Available translation(s): CAT FRE GER ITA
Nature, the gentlest mother
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest, -
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon, -
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky,

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

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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, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , title 1: "Nature, mère la plus gentille", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , title 1: "Natura, la mare més gentil", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Ted Perry

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 105

Natur, gütigste Mutter
Language: German (Deutsch)  after the English 
Natur, gütigste Mutter,
duldsam mit jedem Kind,
für Schwächste und Missratenste
sie milde Worte find't:

der Wand'rer hört's im Wald
im hügeligen Feld
wie Eichhorns, Vogels Übermut
ihr Wort in Schranken hält.

Wie schön ist doch ihr Plaudern,
ein Sommernachmittag, -
ihr Hausstand, ihre Nähe;
und neiget sich der Tag,

ruft zwischen Wegen sie
zum schüchternen Gebet
das kleinste Heimchen auf,
die Blume ohne Wert.

Und schläft dann jedes Kind,
dann wendet sie sich ab,
bis ihre Lampen leuchten all;
vom Himmelszelt herab

mit übergroßer Liebe
und Sorge noch viel mehr,
den goldnen Finger vor dem Mund
sie allseits Ruh begehrt.

About the headline (FAQ)

Authorship

  • Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2013 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.

    Bertram Kottmann.  Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de

    If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:

Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2013-08-14
Line count: 24
Word count: 101