Ein Leilach weiß
Deckt weit und breit
Allum den Weltenacker.
Kein Mensch, und -- sollt
Man meinen -- 's wär
Kein lebend Herze wacker.
Das Vogelvolk
Verlegen und
Verlassen in den Zacken
Des Birnbaums hangt
Und piept, da nichts
Zu picken und zu packen.
's ist alles still
Und stumm allhier,
Allferne. Nur ein Schwatzen
Vernimmst du
Unterweilen noch
Und ein Geschwirr der Spatzen.
Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada, but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.
Confirmed with Rudolf Alexander Schröder, Gesammelte Werke in Fünf Bänden, Erster Band, Die Gedichte, Berlin und Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1952, pages 625-626.
Authorship:
Based on:
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) , "Winter stillness", copyright © 2024, (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: 2022-01-19
Line count: 18
Word count: 62
A white sheet
Covers far and wide
The field of the world all around.
No one about, and -- one
Might think -- there were
No living heart alive.
The bird population,
Perplexed and
Forsaken, hangs in the jagged branches
Of the pear tree
And peeps, since there is nothing
To peck and to seize.
All about everything is quiet
And mute here
And utterly distant. You discern
Only sometimes still
A twittering
And a whirring of the sparrows.