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Morgens steh' ich auf und frage
I wonder every Morning

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I wonder every morning:
Will I see my love today?
And every evening I complain:
Again she stayed away.

Every night, with heartache,
I lie sleepless, wide awake,
And through the daylight hours I wait
In a dreamy, trancelike state.

Es treibt mich hin, es treibt mich her
I am being torn apart

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I am being torn apart –
I shall see her in just a few hours,
Her, lovelier than all other flowers –
Then, why do you pound so, my faithful heart!

These hours are a lazy lot,
Creeping along to no avail
Lazily, yawning, at the speed of a snail.
Move yourselves, you lazy lot!

A rage to hasten has me in its hold.
The Horae were never in love, that is clear;
Bound by some oath both secret and drear,
They mock love’s hurry which won’t be controlled.

Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen
Wandering among the trees

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Wandering among the trees
Alone with my deep sorrow,
I was visited by those old dreams
Which in my heart would burrow.

Who was it taught you to sing that word,
You birds up there on high?
Hush, for should it reach my heart
The pain will multiply.

"A girl who used to walk here,
She sang it all the time.
It was from her we learnt it,
That golden word sublime.”

You should not have let me know that,
You wily, sly old bird.
You’re trying to steal my anguish,
But I take no one’s word.

Lieb Liebchen, leg’s Händchen aufs Herze mein
Place your hand on my heart, my dear

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Place your hand on my heart, my dear.
It’s beating all the time, d’you hear?
A nasty carpenter lives in there
Crafting my coffin fair and square.

He bangs and hammers day and night;
And on my sleep he’s cast a blight.
Now, master-carpenter, end your task.
I want to sleep – it’s all I ask.

Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden
Fair city, fair cradle of my woe

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Fair city,
Fair cradle of my woe,
Shrine where my peace of mind lies buried,
Fare you well, I have to go.

Farewell, you hallowed ground
Where my dearest likes to wander.
Farewell, you holy place
Where first it was I saw her.

If only I’d never seen you,
Queen of my heart, so fair,
It never would have come to pass
That I’d know such despair.

I never meant to rule your heart,
Nor was it love I sought.
To quietly share the air your breathe –
The perfect life, I thought.

But, it’s you that drives me from here;
Cruel words strike to my core,
Madness scrambles all my senses
And my heart is sick and sore.

So, I shall drag these weary limbs
Supported on a wanderer’s stave
Till I can rest my weary head
In some cool and distant grave.

Warte, warte, wilder Schiffsmann
Now, just wait, barbarous boatman

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Now, just wait, barbarous boatman,
I’ll meet you shortly on the quay.
I’ve to take my leave of two fair maidens;
One is Europe, the other, t’is She.

Let the blood stream from my eyes.
Let the blood flow from my flesh.
Then I can write my anguish
In blood that is red hot and fresh.

Why, dear, is it just today
You shudder at the sight of gore?
My bloodless face, my bleeding heart,
You’ve seen them many times before!

D’you know the story of the serpent
In Paradise, as I believe,
Whose evil gift of one red apple
Brought low Adam and also Eve?

All calamity is caused by apples.
With hers, Eve has brought us death,
With hers, Eris brought Troy’s fire,
You have brought both fire and death.

Berg’ und Burgen Schauen herunter
Mountains and castles are looking down

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Mountains and castles are looking down
On the mirror-bright Rhine
As, bathed in gleaming sunlight
I sail by in this boat of mine.

Peacefully I watch their play as
Golden wavelets purl and dart;
Quietly feelings awaken that
I’d kept deep within my heart.

Greeting me with friendly promise,
The river’s splendour draws me in,
But that superficial gleam, I know,
Is hiding death and night below.

Outward joy, a mischievous heart,
River, you play my lover’s part –
She can beckon as a friend,
Smile sweetly, innocence pretend.

Anfangs wollt' ich fast verzagen
At first I was close to despair

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At first I was close to despair,
I thought this was too much to bear,
But I have borne it, I'll allow.
Now, please don't ask me how.

Mit Myrten und Rosen, lieblich und hold
With myrtle and roses in their prime

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With myrtle and roses in their prime,
Cypress sweet and gold leaf fine
I’ll make this book a memorial shrine
And bury there these songs of mine.

If I could but bury my love also!
The flower of peace on love’s grave will grow;
But my peace flower will not bloom
Till I lie buried in my tomb.

Here, then, are the songs that once,
Wild as lava streams from Etna,
Burst from deep within my heart,
Showering sparks on every part.

Now, they lie silent, like to death,
Bound by cold, and misty pale,
But their former glow could be revived
Should the spirit of love once prevail.

And in my heart I feel with awe
That love’s spirit will one day thaw,
One day this book will reach your hand,
My dearest love, in a foreign land.

Then the spell that mutes this song
Will break, the pallid script will reappear,
See into your lovely eyes, implore,
Whispering longingly, adore.