Der von Langenau ist tief im Feind, aber ganz allein.
Der Schrecken hat um ihn einen runden Raum gemacht,
und er hält, mitten drin,
unter seiner langsam verlodernden Fahne.
Langsam, fast nachdenklich, schaut er um sich.
Es ist viel Fremdes, Buntes vor ihm.
Gärten - denkt er und lächelt.
Aber da fühlt er,
daß Augen ihn halten und erkennt Männer
und weiß, daß es die heidnischen Hunde sind -:
und wirft sein Pferd mitten hinein.
Aber, als es jetzt hinter ihm zusammenschlägt,
sind es doch wieder Gärten,
und die sechzehn runden Säbel,
die auf ihn zuspringen, Strahl um Strahl, sind ein Fest.
Eine lachende Wasserkunst.
Submitted by John Versmoren
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):
(Knut W. Barde)
, title 1: "Death", copyright © 2006, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
, title 1: "Von Languenau est au coeur des ennemis, mais tout seul", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
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Von Langenau is deep among the enemy, but entirely alone.
The terror has created a round space around him,
and he stops, right in the middle,
under his flag that is slowly burning up.
Slowly, almost thoughtfully, he looks around himself.
There is much that is strange, colorful, before him.
Gardens - he thinks and smiles.
But then he feels
that eyes are holding him and he recognizes men
and he knows they are the pagan dogs -:
and throws his horse right into them.
But, as everything now crashes down around him,
there are the gardens again,
and the sixteen curved sabers
that dance toward him, gleam for gleam, are a bright festivity.
A laughing fountain.
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Text added to the website: 2006-04-07.