Soldaten
Language: Danish (Dansk)
Med dæmpede hvirvler trommerne gå,
- Ak, skal vi da aldrig til stedet nå,
at han kan få ro i sin kiste?
- Jeg tror mit hjerte vil briste!
Jeg havde i verden en eneste ven,
ham er det, man bringer til døden hen
med klingende spil gennem gaden,
og jeg er med i paraden!
For sidste gang skuer han nu Guds sol,
- der sidder han alt på dødens stol;
de binde ham fast til pælen,
- forbarm dig Gud over sjælen!
På engang sigter de alle ni,
de otte skyder jo rent forbi;
de rysted' på hånden af smerte,
- kun jeg traf midt i hans hjerte!
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), adapted by Adelbert von Chamisso (1781 - 1838) , "Der Soldat", appears in Lieder und lyrisch epische Gedichte, in Nach dem Dänischen von Andersen, no. 3 ; composed by Wenzel Theodor Bradsky, Robert Franz, Friedrich Theodor Fröhlich, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Friedrich Wilhelm Jähns, Heinrich August Marschner, Robert Schumann, Friedrich Silcher, Wilhelm Speyer, Eduard Tauwitz, Nicolai von Wilm.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Le soldat", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 104
Le soldat
Language: French (Français) after the Danish (Dansk)
On marche au roulement assourdi du tambour,
Hélas, n'arriverons‑nous jamais en ce lieu,
Qu'il puisse trouver le repos en son cercueil ?
Je crois que mon cœur va se briser !
J'avais en ce monde un ami unique !
À qui l'on va donner la mort
Au son de la fanfare dans les rues,
Et je suis dans le peloton !
Pour la dernière fois il contemple le soleil de Dieu,
Maintenant il est déjà assis sur la chaise de la mort,
On l'attache serré au poteau !
Prends pitié, Dieu, de son âme !
Alors, tous les neuf mettent en joue.
Huit coups sont bien partis,
Leurs mains tremblent de douleur,
Seul moi l'ai atteint en plein cœur !
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Danish (Dansk) to French (Français) copyright © 2008 by Pierre Mathé, (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: 2008-05-03
Line count: 16
Word count: 114