Berg Lieder

Darkening clouds in the night and valley; the mists float above, the water rushing gently. Now all at once they unveil themselves: o listen! pay heed! A broad land of wonder has opened up. Silver mountains rise up, fantastically huge, quiet paths lit with silver [lead] toward the valley from [some] hidden place; and the noble world is so dreamily pure. A mute beech stands by the path, black with shadows; a breeze from a distant, lonely grove wafts gently by. And from the deep darkness of the valley flash lights in the silent night. Drink, my soul! Drink in this solitude! O listen! pay heed!

Along a secret forest path I like to creep in the evening light; I go to the desolate, reedy banks, and think, my maiden, of you!

As the bushes grow dark, the reeds hiss mysteriously, and lament and whisper, and thus I have to weep and weep.

And I think that I hear wafting the gentle sound of your voice, and down into the pond sinks your lovely song.

It happened because the nightingale sang the whole night long; from her sweet call, from the echo and re-echo, roses have sprung up.

She was but recently a wild blossom, and now she walks, deep in thought; she carries her summer hat in her hand, enduring quietly the heat of the sun, knowing not what to begin.

It happened because the nightingale sang the whole night long; from her sweet call, from the echo and re-echo, roses have sprung up.

That was the day of the white chrysanthemums, I was almost intimidated by its glory… And then, then you came to take my soul deep in the night. I was so worried, and you came so lovingly and quietly, I had just thought of you in a dream. You came, and softly like a fairy tale song the night resounded.

Autumn sunlight. The lovely evening peers so quietly in. A little red fire crackles in the stove and flares up. And with my head upon your knee, I am contented. When my eyes rest in yours, how gently do the minutes pass!

In the arms of love we fell blissfully asleep; at the open window the summer wind listened and the peacefulness of our breath carried out into the bright, moonlit night.

And out of the garden, feeling its way randomly, the scent of roses came to our bed of love and gave us wonderful dreams, dreams of intoxication, rich with yearning.

Now the days sail through the world, sent forth from blue eternity; in the summer wind time dissipates. Now at night the Lord weaves wreaths of stars with blessed hand above the wandering wonderland. o my heart, what can in these days your brightest wanderer’s song then say about your deep, deep pleasure: In meadowsong the heart falls silent, now there are no words, and image upon image visits you and fills you entirely.

I want to avoid the meadows With my heavy grief, So that Spring should not leave The places where I came too near; So that the spring as it gushes, The heart of the flower as it blooms, The nightingale in its singing Should never forget my pain (sorrow).

Soul, you’re more beautiful, deeper, after snowstorms. Like Nature, you have storms, too. And over both still lie a melancholy air like clouds that disperse but slowly.

Have you seen the woods after rainstorms? Everything reposes, gleams and is lovelier than before See, Women, rainstorms are necessary too.

Beyond the borders of all we know, you ponder thoughtfully, You’d never worry about hearth and home. Yet Life, and the dream of life – it can suddenly vanish. Beyond the borders of all we know, you ponder thoughtfully.

Nothing comes, nothing will ever come for my Soul. I have waited, waited, oh waited ! The days are creeping past, they flutter away. My ashblond silken hair blows pointlessly over my sallow face.

Here’s Peace. Here I can cry my heart out. Here the incomprehensible immense pain that burns my soul can find release. See, here there are no people, no settlements. Here’s Peace! Here the snow falls gently into flowing water.