Song Cycle by Franz Peter Schubert (1797-1828)

1. Wandering

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Wanderschaft", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 2 DUT CAT ITA FRE FIN SPA KOR

Wandering is the miller's joy,
Wandering!
He must be a miserable miller,
Who never likes to wander.
Wandering!

We've learned this from the water,
From the water!
It does not rest by day or night,
It's always thinking of its journey,
The water.

We see this also with the wheels,
With the wheels!
They don't like to stand still,
And turn all day without tiring.
With the wheels.

The stones themselves, heavy though they are,
The stones!
They join in the cheerful dance,
And want to go yet faster.
The stones!

Oh, wandering, wandering, my joy,
Oh, wandering!
Oh, Master and Mistress,
Let me continue in peace,
And wander!

2. Where to?

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Wohin?", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 3 DUT CAT ITA FRE FIN SPA KOR

See other settings of this text

I hear a brooklet rushing
Right out of the rock's spring,
Down there to the valley it rushes,
So fresh and wondrously bright..

I know not, how I felt this,
Nor did I know who gave me advice;
I must go down
With my wanderer's staff.

Down and always farther,
And always the brook follows after;
And always rushing crisply,
And always bright is the brook.

Is this then my road?
O, brooklet, speak! where to?
You have with your rushing
Entirely intoxicated my senses.

But why do I speak of rushing?
That can't really be rushing:
Perhaps the water-nymphs
are singing rounds down there in the deep.

Let it sing, my friend, let it rush,
And wander joyously after!
Mill-wheels turn 
In each clear brook.

3. Halt!

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Halt!", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 4 DUT CAT ITA FRE FIN SPA KOR

 I see a mill looking
 Out from the alders;
 Through the roaring and singing
 Bursts the clatter of wheels.

 Hey, welcome, welcome!
 Sweet mill-song!
 And the house, so comfortable!
 And the windows, how clean!

 And the sun, how brightly
 it shines from Heaven!
 Hey, brooklet, dear brook,
 Was this, then, what you meant?

4. Giving Thanks to the Brook

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Danksagung an den Bach", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 5 DUT CAT ITA FRE FIN SPA KOR

 Was this, then, what you meant,
 My rushing friend?
 Your singing and your ringing?
 Was this what you meant?

 To the Millermaid!
 it seems to say...
 Have I understood?
 To the Millermaid!

 Has she sent you?
 Or am I deluding myself?
 I would like to know,
 Whether she has sent you.

 Now, however it may be,
 I commit myself!
 What I sought, I have found.
 However it may be.

 After work I ask,
 Now have I enough
 for my hands and my heart?
 Completely enough!

5. On the restful evening

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Am Feierabend", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 6 NOR DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 If only I had a thousand
 arms to move!
 I could loudly
 drive the wheels!
 I could blow
 Through all the groves!
 I could turn 
 All the stones!
 If only the beautiful Millermaid 
 Would notice my faithful thoughts!

 Ah, why is my arm so weak?
 What I lift, what I carry,
 What I cut, what I beat,
 Every lad does it just as well as I do.
 And there I sit in the great gathering,
 In the quiet, cool hour of rest,
 And the master speaks to us all:
 Your work has pleased me;
 And the lovely maiden says
 "Good night" to everyone.

6. Curiosity

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Der Neugierige", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 7 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 I ask no flower,
 I ask no star;
 None of them can tell me,
 What I so eagerly want to know.

 I am surely not a gardener,
 The stars stand too high;
 My brooklet will I ask,
 Whether my heart has lied to me.

 O brooklet of my love,
 Why are you so quiet today?
 I want to know just one thing -
 One little word again and again.

 The one little word is "Yes";
 The other is "No",
 Both these little words
 Make up the entire world to me.

 O brooklet of my love,
 Why are you so strange?
 I'll surely not repeat it;
 Tell me, o brooklet, does she love me?

7. Impatience

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Ungeduld", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 9 DUT HEB SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

I would carve it fondly in the bark of trees,
I would chisel it eagerly into each pebble,
I would like to sow it upon each fresh flower-bed
With water-cress seeds, which it would quickly disclose;
Upon each white piece of paper would I write:
Yours is my heart and so shall it remain forever.

I would like to raise a young starling,
Until he speaks to me in words pure and clear,
Until he speaks to me with my mouth's sound,
With my heart's full, warm urge;
Then he would sing brightly through her windowpanes:
Yours is my heart and so shall it remain forever!

I would like to breath it into the morning breezes,
I would like to whisper it through the active grove;
Oh, if only it would shine from each flower-star!
Would it only carry the scent to her from near and far!
You waves, could you nothing but wheels drive?
Yours is my heart, and so shall it remain forever.

I thought, it must be visible in my eyes,
On my cheeks it must be seen that it burns;
It must be readable on my mute lips,
Every breath would make it loudly known to her,
And yet she notices nothing of all my yearning feelings.
Yours is my heart, and so shall it remain forever.

8. Morning Greetings

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Morgengruß", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 10 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

Good morning, beautiful millermaid!
Why do you so promptly turn your little head,
As if something has happened to you?
Do you dislike my greetings so profoundly?
Does my glance disturb you so much?
Then I must go on again.

O let me only stand from afar,
Watching your dear window,
From afar, from quite far away!
Your blonde little head, come out!
Come out from your round gate,
You blue morning stars!

You slumber-drunk little eyes,
You flowers, troubled with dew,
Why do you shy from the sun?
Has night been so good to you
That you close and bow and weep
for her quiet joy?

Now shake off the gauze of dreams
And rise, fresh and free 
in God's bright morning!
The lark warbles in the sky;
And from the heart's depths,
Love calls away suffering and worries.

9. The miller's flowers

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Des Müllers Blumen", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 11 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 By the brook, many small flowers stand;
 Out of bright blue eyes they look;
 The brook - it is the miller's friend, -
 And light blue shine my darling's eyes;
 therefor, these are my flowers.

 Right under her little window,
 There will I plant these flowers,
 There will you call to her when everything is quiet,
 When her head leans to slumber,
 You know what I intend you to say!

 And when she closes her little eyes,
 And sleeps in sweet sweet rest,
 Then whisper, like a dreamy vision:
 Forget, forget me not!
 That is what I mean.

 And early in the morning, when she opens the shutters up,
 then look up with a loving gaze:
 The dew in your little eyes
 shall be my tears,
 which I will shed upon you.

10. Rain of Tears

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Thränenregen", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 12 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

We sat so comfortably together
Under the cool roof of alders,
We gazed so quietly together
Down into the murmuring brook.

The moon was already out,
The stars after her,
And we gazed so quietly together
In the silver mirror there.

I sought to see no moon,
Nor the star's shine;
I looked only at her image,
At her eyes alone.

And I saw her reflection nod and gaze
Up from the blissful brook,
The flowerlets on the bank, the blue ones,
They nodded and gazed right back.

And into the brook seemed sunken
The entire heavens;
And seemed to want to pull me under
Into its depths as well.

And over the clouds and stars,
There murmured the brook
And called with singing and ringing:
Fellow, follow me!

Then my eyes filled with tears,
And made the mirror ripple:
She spoke: "The rain comes,
Farewell, I am going home."

11. Mine!

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Mein!", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 13 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 Little brook, let your gushing be!
 Wheels, cease your roaring!
 All you merry woodbirds,
 Large and small,
 End your melodies!
 Through the grove,
 Out and in,
 Let only one song be heard today:
 The beloved millermaid is mine!
 Mine!
 Spring, are all of those your flowers?
 Sun, have you no brighter shine?
 Ah, so I must be all alone
 With my blissful word,
 incomprehensible to all of Creation!

12. Pause

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Pause", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 14 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

My lute I've hung upon the wall,
I've tied it there with a green band;
I can sing no more, my heart is too full.
I know not how to compel the rhymes.

The hot pain of my yearning
I once could exhale in jesting songs;
And when I complained, so sweet and fine,
It seemed to me my sorrows weren't small.

Ah, but how great is my joy's weight,
That no sound on earth can hold it?

Now, dear lute, rest on this nail here!
And if a breeze flutters over your strings,
And if a bee grazes you with its wings,
It makes me anxious and I shudder through and through.

Oh, why have I left that ribbon hanging there so long?
Often it stirs the strings with a sighing sound.
Is it the echo of my lovelorn pining?
Shall it be the prologue to new songs?

13. With the Green Lute-ribbon

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Mit dem grünen Lautenbande", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 15 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 "It's a pity for that pretty green ribbon,
 That it fades here on the wall;
 I like Green so very much!"
 So you said, sweetheart, today to me;
 I shall untie it and send it to you:
 Now be fond of Green!

 Even though your lover is white with flour,
 Green shall still have its praise;
 And I also like green.
 Because our love is evergreen,
 Because Hope's far reaches bloom green,
 We are both fond of green.

 Now pleasantly entwine in your locks
 This green ribbon;
 You are so fond of green.
 Then I will know where Hope dwells,
 Then I will know where Love is enthroned,
 Then I will be really fond of green.

14. The Hunter

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Der Jäger", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 16 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

What, then, does the hunter seek at the mill-brook here?
Remain, presumptuous hunter, in your own hunting-grounds!
Here there is no game for you to hunt;
Here dwells only a little doe, a tame one, for me.
And if you wish to see the tender doe,
Then leave your guns in the woods,
And leave your barking dogs at home,
And stop the horn from blowing and hooting,
And clip from your chin your shaggy hair;
Otherwise the doe will hide itself away in the garden.

Or better yet, remain in the forest
And leave the mills and the miller in peace!
What use are fishes in green branches?
What would the squirrel want in a blue pond? 
Therefore stay, presumptuous hunter, in the meadow,
And leave me with my three wheels alone!
And if you would like to make yourself liked by my sweetheart,
Then know, friend, what troubles her heart:
The boars, they come at night from the grove
And break into her cabbage-garden
And tread and wallow around in the field.
The boars - shoot them, you hunter-hero.

15. Jealousy and Pride

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Eifersucht und Stolz", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 17 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 To where are you going so quickly, so ruffled and wild, my dear brook?
 Do you hurry full of anger for the arrogant hunter?
 Turn around and scold first your millermaid,
 For her light, loose, little flirtatious mind,

 Didn't you see her standing at the gate last night,
 Craning her neck toward the large street?
 When the hunter returns gaily home from the catch,
 No decent girl sticks her head out the window.

 Go, brooklet, and tell her that; but tell her not,
 do you hear? - tell her no word of my sad face.
 Tell her: he is carving a pipe of cane
 And plays pretty dances and songs for the children.

16. The favorite color

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Die liebe Farbe", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 19 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

In green will I dress,
In green weeping willows;
My sweetheart is so fond of green.
I'll look for a thicket of cypresses,
A hedge of green rosemary;
My sweetheart is so fond of green.

Away to the joyous hunt!
Away through heath and hedge!
My sweetheart is so fond of hunting.
The beast that I hunt is Death;
The heath is what I call the grief of love.
My sweetheart is so fond of hunting.

Dig me a grave in the turf,
Cover me with green grass:
My sweetheart is so fond of green.
No black cross, no colorful flowers,
Green, everything green all around!
My sweetheart is so fond of green.

17. The Hateful Color

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Die böse Farbe", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 20 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

I'd like to go out into the world,
Out into the wide world;
If only it weren't so green, so green,
Out there in the forest and field!

I would like to pluck all the green leaves
From every branch,
I would like to weep on all the grass
Until it is deathly pale.

Ah, Green, you hateful color, you,
Why do you always look at me,
So proud, so bold, so gloating,
And me only a poor, flour-covered man?

I would like to lay in front of her door,
In storm and rain and snow.
And sing so sofly by day and by night
One little word: farewell!

Hark, when in the forest a hunter's horn sounds -
Her window clicks! 
And she looks out, but not for me;
Yet I can certainly look in.

O do unwind from your brow
That green, green ribbon;
Farewell, farewell! And give me
Your hand in parting!

18. Dry flowers

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Trockne Blumen", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 22 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

 All you little flowers,
 That she gave me,
 You shall lie
 With me in my grave.

 Why do you all look
 At me so sadly,
 As if you had known
 What would happen to me?

 You little flowers all,
 How wilted, how pale!
 You little flowers all,
 Why so moist?

 Ah, tears will not make
 the green of May,
 Will not make dead love
 bloom again.

 And Spring will come,
 And Winter will go,
 And flowers will
 grow in the grass.

 And flowers will lie
 in my grave,
 all the flowers
 That she gave me.

 And when she wanders
 Past the hill
 And thinks in her heart:
 His feelings were true!

 Then, all you little flowers,
 Come out, come out,
 May has come,
 Winter is over.

19. The Miller and the Brook

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Der Müller und der Bach", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 23 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

The Miller:
 Where a true heart
 Wastes away in love,
 There wilt the lilies
 In every bed;

 Then into the clouds must
 The full moon go,
 So that her tears
 Men do not see;

 Then angels
 shut their eyes
 And sob and sing
 to rest the soul.

The Brook:
 And when Love
 conquers pain,
 a little star, a new one,
 shines in Heaven;

 three roses,
 half red and half white,
 which never wilt,
 spring up on thorny stalks.

 And the angels cut
 their wings right off
 and go every morning
 down to Earth.

The Miller:
 Ah, brooklet, dear brook,
 You mean it so well,
 Ah, brooklet, but do you know,
 What love does?

 Ah, under, yes under,
 is cool rest!
 Ah, brooklet, dear brook,
 please just sing on.

20. The Brook's Lullaby

Authorship

Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust,

a text in German by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) , "Des Baches Wiegenlied", from Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten 1, in Die schöne Müllerin, no. 24 DUT SPA KOR CAT ITA FRE FIN

Good rest, good rest,
Close your eyes!
Wanderer, tired one, you are home.
Fidelity is here,
You shall lie by me,
Until the sea drinks the brooklet dry.

I will bed you cool
On a soft pillow,
In the blue crystal room,
Come, come,
Whatever can lull,
rock and lap my boy to sleep!

When a hunting-horn sounds
From the green forest,
I will roar and rush around you.
Don't look in,
Blue flowerets!
You make my sleeper's dreams so troubled!

Away, away
From the mill-path,
Away, away,
hateful girl!
That your shadow might not wake him.
Throw in to me
Your fine handkerchief,
That I may cover his eyes with it!

Good night, good night,
Until all awake,
Sleep out your joy, sleep out your pain!
The full moon climbs,
The mist fades away,
and the heavens above, how wide they are!

Browse imslp.org (Petrucci Music Library) for art songs or choral works

Classical Vocal Repertoire