The use of cameras or recording equipment during the 

performance is not allowed. Please be sure that cell phones,

pagers, and other electronic devices are turned off.

Please note that late entry or reentry of

the West Building after 6:30 pm is not permitted.

For the convenience of concertgoers the Garden Cafe remains

open for light refreshments until 6:00 pm on Sundays.

Music Department

National Gallery ofArt

Sixth Street and Constitution Avenue NW

Washington, DC

Mailing address

2000B South Club Drive

Landover, md 20785

www.nga.gov

cover: Johann Georg von Dillis, A Royal Party Admiring the Sunset atop

the Hesselberg Mountain, 1801, National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, Wolfgang Ratj

Collection, purchased as the gift of Ladislaus and Beatrix von Hoffmann

The Sixty-eighth Season of

The William Nelson Cromwell and F. Lammot Belin

Concerts

National Gallery ofArt

2,790th Concert

Randall Scarlata, baritone

Thomas Bagwell, pianist

Presented in honor of German Master Drawings

from the Wolfgang Ratjen Collection, 1580-igoo

May 26, 2010

Wednesday, 12:10 pm

West Building Lecture Hall

Admissionfree
Program

Felix Mendelssohn (1810-1847)

Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges, op. 34, no. 2

Venezianisches Gondellied, op. 57, no. 5

Friihlingslied, op. 34, no. 3

Franz Schubert (1797-1828)

Der Wanderer, op. 4, no. 1

Robert Schumann (1810-1856)

Liederkries, op. 39

In der Fremde

Intermezzo

Waldesgesprach 

Die Stille

Mondnacht

Schone Fremde

Auf einer Burg

In der Fremde

Wehmut

Zwielicht

Im Walde

Friihlingsnacht

The Musicians

RANDALL SCARLATA

Flailed for his warm, expressive sound, consummate musicianship, and

winning way with die audience, baritone Randall Scarlata has forged a

career that encompasses opera, recital, chamber music, and works for voice

and orchestra. His repertoire spans four centuries and sixteen languages.

A sought-after interpreter of new music, he has given world premieres of

works by Samuel Adler, George Crumb, Lori Laitman, Paul Moravec, and 

Ned Rorem as well as Thea Musgrave’s one-man opera, The Mocking Bird.

He has been a soloist with the Minnesota and Philadelphia Orchestras and 

the American, BBC, National, Pittsburgh, San Francisco, Tonkiinsder, and

Ulster Symphony Orchestras. A frequent performer with early music groups 

such as the Wiener Akademie Orchester and Musica Angelica, Scarlata

portrayed Siskov in Leos Janacek’s From the House ofthe Dead. He has 

appeared in many music festivals, including the Aspen, Bridgehampton, 

Edinburgh, Kingston, Kneisel Hall, Marlboro, Portiand, Ravinia, Salzburg,

Seattle, Spoleto (Italy), and Vienna festivals.

Scarlata’s performances of Songs ofTin Pan Alley are favorites of both

Art Song aficionados and lovers of popular music. He has performed the 

Schubert song cycles with pianists Jeremy Denk and Seymour Lipkin, and

has given recitals in Europe and the United States with pianist Richard

Goode. He has recorded for the Albany, Arabesque, Chandos, CRI, Gasparo,

and Naxos labels. Recent and upcoming highlights include the Philadelphia 

Orchestra’s Bernstein festival, the world premiere of George Crumb’s

American Songbook VI, Bach’s Christmas Oratorio in Vienna and Los Angeles,

Brahms’ German Requiem and orchestral songs of Ravel and Stravinsky

with the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, and Schubert songs for the 

Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center.

3
Scarlata received a Fulbright grant to study at the Hochschule fur Musik

in Vienna and holds a masters degree from the Juilliard School of Music. In

addition, he spent several summers studying with the great French baritone,

Gerard Souzay. Fie is a Sing for Hope artist, having been involved with the 

foundation for more than ten years, and serves on the faculty ofthe College

ofVisual and Performing Arts at West Chester University.

THOMAS BAGWELL

Thomas Bagwell is well known as a collaborative pianist in song recitals and

chamber music. He has performed in Carnegie Hall, the Concertgebouw

(Amsterdam), the Musikverein (Vienna), Wigmore Hall (London), and numerous halls across Canada, Japan, Puerto Rico, and the United States. He was an

assistant conductor at the Metropolitan Opera for nine seasons, and has served 

in the same capacity for many seasons at the Opera Theatre of Saint Louis,

the Santa Fe Opera, and the Washington National Opera. He has appeared in

recital with renowned singers Renee Fleming, Susan Graham, Denyce Graves,

Marilyn Home, James Morris, Roberta Peters, and Frederica von Stade as well

as with many rising young singers. In the field of chamber music, Bagwell

has participated in the Marlboro Music Festival and has performed with

violinists Midori, Scott Saint John, and Miranda Cuckson. In 2009 Bagwell

and Cuckson performed Beethoven’s ten sonatas for violin and piano at 

Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City. In Washington, DC,

Bagwell collaborated with soprano Elaine Alvarez in a Vocal Arts Society

concert at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater, and with Renee Fleming in

an invitational concert at the State Department. He also served as co-artistic 

director for an Austrian Lieder festival at the Austrian Embassy in 2007.

Bagwell received degrees from the Mannes College of Music and the

Manhattan School of Music and has studied with Edna Golandsky, Graham

Johnson, and Warren Jones. He pursued additional training with Elly

Ameling and RudolfJansen at the Academie Musicale de Villecroze in Paris.

He has been on the faculty of Yale University and currently teaches at the

Mannes College of Music in New York City.

4

Program Notes

Over the course ofthree decades, Wolfgang Ratjen (1943-1997) assembled a

stunning collection ofdrawings. The German drawings from his collection

range from the seventeenth-century baroque and eighteenth-century rococo to

nineteenth-century romanticism and realism. They include studies for soaring

religious ceilings by some ofthe greatest South German artists, designs for

rococo prints by artists who worked in Augsburg, landscape watercolors by

Johann Georg von Dillis and Caspar David Friedrich, architectural watercolors 

and realist drawings by Adolph Menzel, who was an avid music lover and

ardent admirer ofRobert and Clara Schumann. German Master Drawingsfrom

the Wolfgang Ratjen Collection, 1580-1900, is the first exhibition ofthe remarkable highlights ofthis great collection. It remains on view at the National 

Gallery until November 28, 2010.

In the late eighteenth century and throughout the nineteenth, Germanspeaking countries saw a surge in romantic lyric poetry. At the same time,

the rise in popularity ofthe piano brought new dimensions to the art of

accompanying singers at a keyboard instrument. The confluence ofthese

two developments was the flowering ofthe art form known as the Lied. The

term Lied had been applied to songs, whether accompanied or not, already

in the fifteenth century. Until the romantic period the poetry had a predictable meter, line length, and rhyme. Composers usually set the poetry with

melodies that were simple and strophic and accompaniments that were 

harmonically precise. This is partly attributable to the view, prevalent in the

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, that the music of a Lied should be

subservient to the poetry. With the advent of Beethoven, Schubert, and

Mendelssohn, the genre became much more subtle and took its place among

high art forms. By the time these composers were old enough to read and

enjoy poetry, there was a significant body ofromantic verse in publication,

most notably by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) and Friedrich von 

Schiller (1759-1805), but also from such prolific writers as Joseph Freiherr von 

Eichendorff(1788-1857), Franz Grillparzer (1791-1872), and Heinrich Heine

5
(l797~1^5^>)- One °fthe marks ofgenius ofthe three composers represented

on this program is that, even when they turned to poets who were less gifted

than these, they created Lieder oflasting worth. Sublime melodies transform

the texts, while the piano accompaniments provide variety and color through

striking changes of key, tessitura, and texture.

When he died in 1828 at age thirty-one, Schubert had only begun to

acquaint himselfwith the second generation of great German romantic

poets— Eichendorff, Heine, and Friedrich Ruckert (1788-1866)—but he

had contributed masterpieces to the Lied repertoire using texts by Goethe,

Schiller, and Grillparzer, among others. Mendelssohn, however, had full 

access to their works, and turned to the poetry of Heine, not only for Auf

FliXgeln des Gesanges (On Wings of Song), but also for such songs as Neue

Liebe (New Love), Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass (Why Are the Roses so

Pale), and Reiselied (Traveler’s Song). Well-read and a writer of beautiful

letters as well as a composer ofsongs, Mendelssohn also turned to poetry

by Eichendorff, Goethe, Grillparzer, and Schiller as well as the English poets

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) and Lord Byron (1788-1824).

By far the most literary ofthe composers represented in this program,

Robert Schumann was a prolific writer ofprose. In addition to his private 

music studies, he studied law at the universities of Leipzig and Heidelberg

and was an avid reader ofthe works ofthe novelist Jean Paul Richter (1763 —

1825) and the second-generation romantic poets. Before he reached age thirty,

he was contributing music criticism to German newspapers. Depressed by

the musical situation in Leipzig, he founded a Davidsbund (David’s Club) of

likeminded musicians and writers who would take up the cause offighting

artistic “philistines.” Schumann published their writings in a periodical, Neue

Zeitschrijtjur Musik (New Magazine for Music), which he edited for ten years.

In his writings, he gave himself a dual personality—Florestan was his impetuous nature and Eusebius was his contemplative side. Schumann’s songs have

a special place in the romantic literature, not only because many ofthem

were directly inspired by his love for the pianist Clara Wieck (1819-1896), who 

eventually became his wife, but also because they give a unique role to the

piano as a wordless commentator on the message ofthe song.

6

Next Week at the National Gallery of Art

Karin Paludan, soprano

Danielle DeSwert Hahn, pianist

Songs by George Gershwin

Presented in honor of

From Impressionism to Modernism:

The Chester Dale Collection

June 2, 2010

Wednesday, 12:10 pm

West Building Lecture Hall
Texts and Translations

May 26, 2010

Auf Fliigeln des Gasanges (Heine)

Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges,

Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort,

Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges,

Dort weiB ich den schonsten Ort;

Dort liegt ein rotbliihender Garten

Im stillen Mondenschein,

Die Lotosblumen erwarten

Ihr trautes Schwesterlein.

Die Veilchen kichern und kosen,

Und schaun nach den Sternen empor,

Heimlich erzahlen die Rosen

Sich duftende Marchen ins Ohr.

Es hiipfen herbei und lauschen

Die frommen, klugen Gazelln,

Und in der Feme rauschen

Des heiligen Stromes Well'n.

Dort wollen wir niedersinken 

Unter dem Palmenbaum,

Und Liebe und Ruhe trinken,

Und traumen seligen Traum.

Venezianisches Gondellied

(Thomas Moore, translated by F. Freiligrath)

Wenn durch die Piazetta 

die Abendluft weht,

dann weiBt du, Ninetta,

Wer wartend hier steht.

Du weiBt, wer trotz Schleier

und Maske dich kennt,

Wie die Sehnsucht

im Herzen mir brennt.

Ein Schifferkleid trag7 ich

zur selbigen Zeit,

und zitternd dir sag7 ich:

das Boot ist bereit!

O komm jetzt, wo Lunen

noch Wolken umzieh'n,

laB durch die Lagunen,

Geliebte, uns tlieh'n!

On Wings of Song

On wings of song,

my love, I’ll carry you away

to the fields of the Ganges

Where I know the most beautiful place.

There lies a red-flowering garden,

in the serene moonlight,

the lotus-flowers await

Their beloved sister.

The violets giggle and caress,

and look up at the stars,

The roses tell each other secretly

Their fragant fairy-tales.

The gentle, bright gazelles

pass and listen;

and in the distance murmur

The waves of the holy stream.

There we will lie down

under the palm-tree, 

and drink of love and peace,

And dream our blessed dream.

Venetian Gondolier's Song

(Original Moore text)

When through the Piazzetta 

Night breathes her cool air,

Then, dearest Ninetta,

I'll come to thee there.

Beneath thy mask shrouded,

I'll know thee afar,

As Love knows, though clouded,

his own Evening Star.

In garb, then, resembling

Some gay gondolier,

I’ll whisper thee, trembling,

Our bark, love, is near:

Now, now, while there hover

those clouds o'er the moon,

Twill waft thee safe over

yon silent Lagoon.
Friihlingslied (Karl Klingemann)

Es brechen im schallenden Reigen

Die Friihlingsstimmen los,

Sie konnerf's nicht langer verschweigen,

Die Wonne ist gar zu groB!

Wohin, sie ahnen es selber kaum,

Es riihrt sie ein alter, ein siiBer Traum!

Die Knospen schwellen und gliihen

Und driingen sich an das Licht,

Und warten in sehnendem Bliihen,

DaB liebende Hand sie bricht.

Wohin, sie ahnen es selber kaum,

Es riihrt sie ein alter, ein siiBer Traum!

Und Friihlingsgeister, sie steigen

Hinab in der Menschen Brust,

Und regen da drinnen den Reigen

Der ew’gen Jugendlust.

Wohin, sie ahnen es selber kaum,

Es riihrt sie ein alter, ein siiBer Traum!

Der Wanderer (Georg Philip Schmidt von

Liibeck)

Ich komme vom Gebirge her,

Es dampft das Tal, es braust das Meer.

Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,

Und immer fragt der Seufzer, wo?

Die Sonne diinkt mich hier so kalt,

Die Bliite welk, das Leben alt,

Und was sie reden, leerer Schall;

Ich bin ein Fremdling iiberall.

Wo bist du, mein geliebtes Land?

Gesucht, geahnt, und nie gekannt!

Das Land, das Land so hoffnungsgrtin,

Das Land, wo meine Rosen bliihn.

Wo meine Freunde wandelnd gehn,

Wo meine Toten auferstehn,

Das Land, das meine Sprache spricht, O Land, wo bist du? . . .

Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,

Und immer fragt der Seufzer, wo?

Im Geisterhauch tont's mir zuriick: “Dort, wo du nicht bist, dort ist das Gluck?

Spring Song

Spring’s voices break forth

In resounding dances,

They can no longer remain silent,

Theirjoy is too great!

They hardly know where they are headed;

An old, sweet dream seems to move them!

The buds swell and glow

And push themselves towards the light,

And wait in passionate blooming,

Fora loving hand to pick them.

They hardly know where they are headed...

And the spirits of spring,

They enter humankind's breast,

And therein they lead the dance

Of eternal youthful desire.

They hardly know where they are headed...

The Wanderer I come from the mountains,

The valley is damp, the sea roars. I wander silently and am rarely happy,

And my sighs always ask

“Where?”

The sun seems so cold to me here,

The blossoms faded, the life old,

And what they say resounds emptily; I am a stranger everywhere.

Where are you, my dear land?

Sought, imagined, yet never known,

That land, so green with hope,

That land, where my roses bloom,

Where my friends wander 

Where my dead ones rise again,

That land where they speak my language—

Oh land, where are you? I wander silently and am rarely happy,

And my sighs always ask“Where?”

Ina ghostly breath it calls back to me,

“There, where you are not, there is your

happiness.”

LIEDERKREIS, op. 39 (Eichendorff)

In der Fremde

Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot

Da kommen die Wolken her,

Aber Vater und Mutter sind lange tot,

Es kennt mich dort keiner mehr.

Wie bald, wie bald kommt die stille Zeit,

Da ruhe ich auch, und liber mir

Rauschet die schone Waldeinsamkeit,

Und keiner mehr kennt mich auch hier.

Intermezzo

Dein Bildnis wunderselig 

Hab ich im Herzensgrund,

Das sieht so frisch und frohlich

Mich an zu jeder Stund

’.

Mein Herz still in sich singet

Ein altes schones Lied,

Das in die Luft sich schwinget

Und zu dir eilig zieht.

Waldesgesprach

Es ist schon spat, es ist schon kalt,

Was reitst du einsam durch den Wald?

Der Wald ist lang, du bist allein,

Du schone Braut! Ich fiihr dich heim! “GroB ist der Manner Trug und List,

Vor Schmerz mein Herz gebrochen ist,

Wohl irrt das Waldhorn her und hin, O flieh! Du weiBt nicht, wer ich bin.

”

So reich geschmiickt ist RoB und Weib,

So wunderschon der junge Leib,

Jetzt kenn ich dich- Gott steh mir bei!

Du bist die Hexe Lorelei.

-

“Du kennst mich wohl- von hohem Stein

Schaut still mein SchloB tief in den Rhein.

Es ist schon spat, es ist schon kalt,

Kommst nimmermehr aus diesem Wald."

SONG CYCLE, op. 39 (Eichendorff)

In

a Foreign Place

From my homeland, behind the red flashes

of lightning come clouds,

But Father and Mother are long dead;

No one there knows me anymore.

How soon will that quiet time come,

WhenI too shall rest, and over me

the beautiful forest’s loneliness shall rustle,

And no one here shall know me anymore.

Intermezzo

Your image, wonderfully blissful I have in my heart's depths;

it looks so freshly and joyously

at me in every moment.

My heart sings silently to itself 

an old, beautiful song

that soars into the air

and hastens to your side.

Conversation in the Forest

It is already late, it is already cold;

why do you ride alone through the wood?

The wood is vast and you are alone,

you fair bride!I will lead you home.

“Great are the deceit and cunning of men;

my heart has broken for pain.

The forest horn strays here and there, O flee! You do not know who I am.”

So richly adorned are steed and lady,

so wondrously fair the young form;

nowI recognize you- God help me!

You are the witch Loreley. “You recognize me indeed

- from the lofty

cliffs my castle gazes down upon the Rhine.

It is already late, it is already cold-

you shall never again leave this wood."
Die Stille

Es weiB und rat es doch keiner,

Wie mir so wohl ist, so wohl!

Ach, wiiBt es nur einer, nur einer,

Kein Mensch es sonst wissen sollt!

So still ist’s nicht drauBen im Schnee,

So stumm und verschwiegen sind

Die Sterne nicht in der Hoh,

Als meine Gedanken sind.

Ich wiinscht’, ich ware ein Voglein

Und zoge iiber das Meer,

Wohl iiber das Meer und weiter,

Bis daB ich im Himmel wiir!

Mondnacht

Es war, als hiitt’ der Himmel,

Die Erde still gekiiBt,

DaB sie im Bltitenschimmer 

Von ihm nur traumen miiBt.

Die Luft ging durch die Felder,

Die Ahren wogten sacht,

Es rauschten leis die Walder,

So sternklar war die Nacht.

Und meine Seele spannte

Weit ihre Fliigel aus,

Flog durch die stillen Lande,

Als floge sie nach Haus.

Schone Fremde

Es rauschen die Wipfel und schauern,

Als machten zu dieser Stund

Um die halbversunkenen Mauern

Die alten Gotter die Rund.

Hier hinter den Myrtenbaumen

In heimlich dammernder Pracht,

Was sprichst du wirr wie in Traumen

Zu mir, phantastische Nacht?

Es funkeln auf mich alle Sterne

Mit gltihendem Liebesblick,

Es redet trunken die Feme

Wie vom kiinftigem, groBem Gliick.

The Quiet One

No one knows or guesses

how gladI am, so glad!

Alas, if only one person could know it, just

one- no other soul would have to!

The snow outside is not so quiet-

nor as mute and silent

are the lofty stars,

compared with my thoughts. I wish I were a little bird - I would fly over the sea,

Far across the sea and farther,

untilI were in heaven!

Moonlit Night

It was as if the sky

Had quietly kissed the earth,

So that ina shower of blossoms 

She must only dream of him.

The breeze wafted through the fields,

The ears of corn waved gently,

The forests rustled lightly,

So sparkling clear was the night.

And my soul stretched

its wings out wide,

Flew through the silent lands,

as if it were flying home.

Beautiful Foreign Land

The treetops rustle and shiver

as if at this hour

about the half-sunken walls

the old gods are making their rounds.

Here, behind the myrtle trees,

in secretly darkening splendor,

what do you say so strangely, as if ina

dream, to me, fantastic night?

The stars glitter down on me

with glowing, loving gazes,

and the distance speaks tipsily,

it seems, of great future happiness.

Auf einer Burg At

a Castle

Eingeschlafen auf der Lauer

Oben ist der alte Ritter;

Driiber gehen Regenschauer,

Und der Wald rauscht durch das Gitter.

Eingewachsen Bart und Haare

Und versteinert Brust und Krause,

Sitzt er viele hundert Jahre

Oben in der stillen Klause.

DrauBen ist es still’ und friedlich,

Alle sind ins Tal gezogen,

Waldesvogel einsam singen

In den leeren Fensterbogen.

Eine Hochzeit fiihrt da unten

Auf dem Rhein im Sonnenscheine,

Musikanten spielen munter,

Und die schone Braut, die weinet.

In der Fremde

Ich hor’ die Bachlein rauschen

Im Walde her und hin.

Im Walde, in dem Rauschen,

Ich weiB nicht, wo ich bin.

Die Nachtigallen schlagen

Hier in der Einsamkeit,

Als wollten sie was sagen

Von der alten, schonen Zeit.

Die Mondesschimmer tliegen,

Als sah ich unter mir

Das SchloB im Tale liegen,

Und ist doch so weit von hier!

Als miiBte in dem Garten,

Voll Rosen weiB und rot,

Meine Liebste auf mich warten,

Und ist doch lange tot.

Asleep on his watch

up there is the old knight;

above him move rain showers,

and the wood rustles through the trellises.

Beard and hair grown into one,

chest and ruff have turned to stone;

he has sat for many hundreds of years

above in his silent den.

Outside it is quiet and peaceful:

all have taken to the valley;

woodbirds sing alone

in the empty arching windows. A wedding passes by below

on the Rhine, in the sunlight:

musicians play gaily

and the fair bride- she weeps.

Ina Foreign Land

I hear the little brooks rushing

here and there in the wood.

In the wood, amidst the rushing, I know not where I am.

The nightingales sing

here in the solitude,

as if they wanted to speak

of fine old times.

The moonbeams dart

andI seem to see below me

a castle lying in the valley-

yet it is so far from here!

It seems as if, in the garden

full of roses white and red,

my sweetheart were waiting for me-

yet she is long since dead.
Wehmut

Ich kann wohl manchmal singen,

Als ob ich frohlich sei,

Doch heimlich Tranen dringen,

Da wird das Herz mir frei.

Es lassen Nachtigallen,

Spielt drauBen Friihlingsluft,

Der Sehnsucht Lied erschallen

Aus ihres Kerkers Gruft.

Da lauschen alle Herzen,

Und alles ist erfreut,

Doch keiner ftihlt die Schmerzen,

Im Lied das tiefe Leid.

Zwielicht

Diimnirung will die Fliigel spreiten,

Schaurig riihren sich die Baume,

Wolken ziehn wie schwere Traume

-

Was will dieses Grau’n bedeuten?

Hast ein Reh du lieb vor andern,

LaB es nicht alleine grasen,

Jager ziehn im Wald und blasen,

Stimmen hin und wieder wandern.

Hast du einen Freund hienieden,

Trau ihm nicht zu dieser Stunde,

Freundlich wohl mit Aug’ und Munde,

Sinnt er Krieg im tiick’schen Frieden.

Was heut miide gehet unter,

Hebt sich morgen neu geboren.

Manches ist in Nacht verloren-

Hiite dich, sei wach und munter!

Melancholy

Sometimes

I can sing

as ifI were happy,

but secretly tears well up

and free my heart.

The nightingales, 

when spring breezes play, let

their songs of yearning resound

from the depths of their dungeons.

Then all hearts listen

and everyone rejoices;

yet no one truly feels the anguish

of the song's deep sorrow.

Twilight

Dusk prepares to spread its wings,

the trees rustle ominously,

clouds approach like heavy dreams

-

what does this horror mean?

If you havea favorite deer,

don't let it graze alone;

hunters roam the forest, sounding their

horns, their voices echoing time and again.

If you havea friend here,

do not trust him in this hour;

friendly might he seem in eye and mouth,

yet he plans for war in deceitful peace.

What today goes wearily down,

will lift itself tomorrow newly born.

Much goes astray at night-

beware- stay alert and awake!

Im Walde

Es zog eine Hochzeit den Berg entlang,

Ich horte die Vogel schlagen,

Da blitzten viel Reiter, das Waldhorn 

klang,

Das war ein lustiges Jagen!

Und eh' ich’s gedacht, war alles verhallt,

Die Nacht bedecket die Runde,

Nur von den Bergen noch rauschet der 

Wald

Und mich schauert’s im Herzensgrunde.

Friihlingsnacht

liber’m Garten durch die Liifte

Hort’ ich Wandervogel ziehn,

Das bedeutet Friihlingsdufte,

Unten fiingt

’s schon an zu bliihn.

Jauchzen mocht’ ich, mochte weinen,

Ist mir’s doch, als konnt’s nicht sein!

Alte Wunder wieder scheinen

Mit dem Mondesglanz herein.

Und der Mond, die Sterne sagen’s,

Und im Traume rauscht’s der Hain,

Und die Nachtigallen schlagen’s:

Sie ist deine! Sie ist dein!

In the Woods

Beside the mountain there passeda wedding

party.I heard the birds singing;

Then there blazed past many horsemen, their

forest horns sounding.

That was

a merry hunt!

And just asI thought of it, everything had

died away and the night covered all.

Only from the mountains do the woods yet

rustle,

and deep in my heartI shudder.

Spring Night

Above the garden and across the sky I heard migrating birds passing;

that means that spring is coming;

below, things already begin to bloom. I could rejoice, I could weep - I feel as though it cannot be!

Old wonders appear again

with the moonlight.

And the moon and stars say it,

and ina dream the grove murmurs it,

and the nightingales sing it:

she is yours! She is yours!