by
Franz Alfred Muth (1839 - 1890)
Sonntagsfrühe
Language: German (Deutsch)
Available translation(s): ENG
Weit in grünem Glanz der Hag,
Weit das Thal in Feierruh'!
Kaum ein Vöglein schlagen mag,
Kaum ein Börnlein rauscht dazu.
Von dem Himmel mild beschieden
Athmet Alles Sonntagsfrieden.
Wie so blau der Aether lacht,
Lichten Schimmer niederschickt!
Jedes Blümlein, frisch erwacht,
Fühlt mit Thau sich still erquickt;
Ringsum steigen Weihedüfte
In die sonntagsstillen Lüfte.
Nun von ferne himmlischklar
Fließt der Glocken hehrer Klang,
Worte leihend wunderbar
Aller Wesen dunklem Drang:
In der Glocken süßem Klingen
Nimmt die Erde Himmelsschwingen.
Sonntagsfrühe, kehre du
Ein in jede, jede Brust,
Gib den Müden Gottesruh',
Gib dem Schmerze Himmelslust;
In der hehren Sonntagsfrühe
Selig jede Seel' erglühe!
Confirmed with Franz Alfred Muth, Waldblumen, Dritte, durchaus ausgewählte und reich vermehrte Auflage, Paderborn: Druck und Verlag von Ferdinand Schöningh, 1885, page 183.
Authorship:
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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Early Sunday morning", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website: 2019-08-24
Line count: 24
Word count: 105
Early Sunday morning
Language: English  after the German (Deutsch)
The grove lies in the broad green radiance,
The valley in celebratory peace!
Hardly a bird wishes to call out,
Hardly a water-spring surges in accompaniment.
Gently bestowed upon it by Heaven,
Everything breathes Sunday peace.
How the aether smiles with blueness,
Sending down a bright shimmer!
Every floweret, newly awakened,
Feels itself quietly refreshed with dew;
Round about hallowing scents rise
Into the Sunday quietness of the air.
From far away now, heavenly clear,
Flows the lofty sound of the bells,
Wondrously giving utterance
To the darksome urges of all creatures:
In the sweet ringing of the bells
The earth takes on heavenly wings.
Ye dawn of Sunday morning, enter
Into every, every breast,
Bestow God’s peace upon the weary,
Bestow heavenly bliss to [those in] pain;
May every soul blissfully come aglow
In the lofty dawn of Sunday!
Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2021 by Sharon Krebs, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2021-12-26
Line count: 24
Word count: 141