FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797–1828): “Der Neugierige” (1823)
Wilhelm Müller (1794–1827), translation by Richard Wigmore
Ich frage keine Blume,
I ask no flower,
Ich frage keinen Stern,
I ask no star,
Sie können mir alle nicht sagen
none of them can tell me
Was ich erführ’ so gern.
what I would so dearly like to hear.
Ich bin ja auch kein Gärtner,
For I am no gardener
Die Sterne stehn zu hoch;
and the stars are too high;
Mein Bächlein will ich fragen,
I will ask my little brook
Ob mich mein Herz belog.
if my heart has lied to me.
O Bächlein meiner Liebe,
O brook of my love,
Wie bist du heut’ so stumm!
how silent you are today!
Will ja nur Eines wissen,
I wish to know just one thing,
Ein Wörtchen um und um.
one small word, over and over again.
Ja, heisst das eine Wörtchen,
One word is ‘yes’,
Das andre heisset Nein,
the other is ‘no’,
Die beiden Wörtchen schliessen
these two words contain for me
Die ganze Welt mir ein.
the whole world.
O Bächlein meiner Liebe,
O brook of my love,
Was bist du wunderlich!
how strange you are!
Will’s ja nicht weiter sagen,
I will tell no one else:
Sag’, Bächlein, liebt sie mich?
say, brook, does she love me?
GABRIEL FAURÉ (1845–1924): “Veilles-tu ma senteur de soleil” (1906)
Charles Van Lerberghe (1861–1907), translation by Richard Stokes
Veilles-tu, ma senteur de soleil,
Are you awake, my fragrant sun,
Mon arôme d’abeilles blondes,
My scent of bright-coloured bees,
Flottes-tu sur le monde,
Do you drift across the world,
Mon doux parfum de miel?
My sweet aroma of honey?
La nuit, lorsque mes pas
At night, while my steps
Dans le silence rôdent,
Prowl in the silence,
M’annonces-tu, senteur de mes lilas,
Do you, who scent my lilacs
Et de mes roses chaudes?
And vivid roses, proclaim me?
Suis-je comme une grappe de fruits
Am I like a bunch of fruit
Cachés dans les feuilles,
Hidden in the foliage,
Et que rien ne décèle,
That nothing reveals
Mais qu’on odore dans la nuit?
But whose fragrance is felt at night?
Sait-il, à cette heure
Does he know at this hour
Que j’entr’ouvre ma chevelure,
That I am loosening my tresses,
Et qu’elle respire;
And that they are breathing;
Le sent-il sur la terre?
Does he sense it on earth?
Sent-il que j’étends les bras,
Does he sense that I reach out my arms,
Et que des lys de mes vallées
And that my voice—which he cannot hear—
Ma voix qu’il n’entend pas
Is fragrant
Est embaumée?
With lilies from my valleys?
GABRIEL FAURÉ (1845–1924): “Les berceaux” (1879)
Sully Prudhomme (1839–1907), translation by Richard Stokes
Le long du quai les grands vaisseaux,
Along the quay the great ships,
Que la houle incline en silence,
Listing silently with the surge,
Ne prennent pas garde aux berceaux
Pay no heed to the cradles
Que la main des femmes balance.
Rocked by women’s hands.
Mais viendra le jour des adieux,
But the day of parting will come,
Car il faut que les femmes pleurent,
For it is decreed that women shall weep,
Et que les hommes curieux
And that men with questing spirits
Tentent les horizons qui leurrent.
Shall seek enticing horizons.
Et ce jour-là les grands vaisseaux,
And on that day the great ships,
Fuyant le port qui diminue,
Leaving the dwindling harbour behind,
Sentent leur masse retenue
Shall feel their hulls held back
Par l’âme des lointains berceaux.
By the soul of the distant cradles.
OTTORINO RESPIGHI (1879–1936): “Pioggia” (1909)
Vittoria Aganoor Pompilj (1855–1910), translation by Bard Suverkrop
Piovea: per le finestre spalancate
It was raining: through the wide open windows
A quella tregua di ostinati odori
The overwhelming scent provided a respite
Saliano dal giardin fresche folate
Rising from the garden in refreshing gusts
D’erbe risorte e di risorti fiori.
From the newly invigorated grass and flowers.
S’acchettava il tumulto dei colori
The tumult of colors was calm
Sotto il vel delle gocciole implorate;
Under the veil of the persistent drops;
E intorno ai pioppi ai frassini agli allori
And all around the poplars, the ash trees, and the laurels
Beveano ingorde le zolle assetate.
The thirsty ground drank greedily.
Esser pianta, esser foglia, esser stelo
Ah, to be a plant, a leaf, a stem
E nell'angoscia dell'ardor (pensavo)
And in the anguish of passion (I thought)
Così largo ristoro aver dal cielo!
And thus to be slowly restored by the sky!
Sul davanzal protesa io gli arboscelli,
Leaning out the window sill, the saplings
I fiori, l'erbe guardavo guardavo
The flowers, the grass, I watched, I watched
E mi battea la pioggia sui capelli.
As the rain beat down upon my hair.
BENJAMIN BRITTEN (1913–1976): “To Lie Flat on the Back with the Knees Flexed”
W. H. Auden (1907–1973)
To lie flat on the back with the knees flexed
and sunshine on the soft receptive belly,
or face down, the insolent spine relaxed,
no more compelled to cower or to bully,
is good; and good to see them passing by
below on the white sidewalk in the heat,
the dog, the lady with parcels, and the boy:
there is the casual life outside the heart.
Yes, we are out of sight and earshot here.
Are you aware what weapon you are loading,
to what that teasing talk is quietly leading?
Our pulses count but do not judge the hour.
Who are you with, from whom you turn away,
At whom you dare not look? Do you know why?
HUGO WOLF (1860–1903): “Fussreise” (1888)
Eduard Mörike (1804–1875), translation by Paul Hindemith
Am frischgeschnittnen Wanderstab,
With my fresh-cut walking staff
Wenn ich in der Frühe
Early in the morning
So durch Wälder ziehe,
I go through the woods,
Hügel auf und ab:
Over the hills, and away.
Dann, wie’s Vöglein im Laube
Then, like the birds in the arbor
Singet und sich rührt,
That sing and stir,
Oder wie die goldne Traube
Or like the golden grapes
Wonnegeister spürt
That trace their blissful spirits
In der ersten Morgensonne:
In the first morning light
So fühlt auch mein alter, lieber
I feel in my age, too, beloved
Adam Herbst- und Frühlingsfieber,
Adam’s spring- and autumn fever—
Gottbeherzte,
God-fearing,
Nie verscherzte
But not discarded
Erstlings-Paradiseswonne.
The first delights of Paradise.
Also bist du nicht so schlimm, o alter
You are not so bad, oh old
Adam, wie die strengen Lehrer sagen;
Adam, as the strict teachers say;
Liebst und lobst du immer doch,
You love and rejoice,
Singst und preisest immer noch,
Sing and praise,
Wie an ewig neuen Schöpfungstagen,
As it is eternally the first day of Creation,
Deinen lieben Schöpfer und Erhalter.
Your beloved Creator and Preserver.
Möcht es dieser geben
I would like to be given to this
Und mein ganzes Leben
And my whole life
Wär im leichten Wanderschweisse
Would be in simple wandering wonder
Eine solche Morgenreise!
Of one such morning stroll.
