The young man on the hill
(Poet's title: Der Jüngling auf dem Hügel)
Set by Schubert:
D 702
[November 1820]
Ein Jüngling auf dem Hügel
Mit seinem Kummer saß,
Wohl ward der Augen Spiegel
Ihm trüb und tränennass.
Sah frohe Lämmer spielen
Am grünen Felsenhang,
Sah frohe Bächlein quillen
Das bunte Tal entlang;
Die Schmetterlinge sogen
Am roten Blütenmund,
Wie Morgenträume flogen
Die Wolken in dem Rund;
Und alles war so munter,
Und alles schwamm in Glück,
Nur in sein Herz hinunter
Sah nicht der Freude Blick.
Ach, dumpfes Grabgeläute
Im Dorfe nun erklang,
Schon tönte aus der Weite
Ein klagender Gesang,
Sah nun die Lichter scheinen,
Den schwarzen Leichenzug,
Fing bitter an zu weinen,
Weil man sein Röschen trug.
Jetzt ließ den Sarg man nieder,
Der Totengräber kam
Und gab der Erde wieder,
Was Gott aus selber nahm.
Da schwieg des Jünglings Klage,
Und betend ward sein Blick,
Sah schon am schönern Tage,
Des Wiedersehens Glück.
Und wie die Sterne kamen,
Der Mond heraufgeschifft,
Da las er in den Sternen
Der Hoffnung hohe Schrift.
There was a young man on a hill
Sitting with his troubles,
The mirror of his eyes soon became
Cloudy and moist with tears.
He saw carefree lambs playing
On the green hillside,
He saw the little stream spring up
And flow along the colourful valley;
The butterflies were drinking
From the red mouth of the flower,
Flying like morning dreams
The clouds went around;
And everything was so cheerful,
And everything was swimming in happiness,
Only down in his heart
He could not see any sign of joy.
Oh, a gloomy funereal tolling
Now rang out in the village,
And in the distance could already be heard
A song of lament;
He then saw the lights shining,
The black funeral procession,
He began to weep bitterly
Because they were carrying his Rosy.
Now they lowered the coffin,
The grave-diggers arrived,
And put back into the earth
What God had taken from it.
Then the young man’s lament stopped,
His face became prayerful,
He could already see the more beautiful day
Of happiness when they would see each other again.
And when the stars came out
And the moon sailed upwards,
He then read in the stars
The exalted message of hope.
All translations into English that appear on this website, unless otherwise stated, are by Malcolm Wren. You are free to use them on condition that you acknowledge Malcolm Wren as the translator and schubertsong.uk as the source. Unless otherwise stated, the comments and essays that appear after the texts and translations are by Malcolm Wren and are © Copyright.
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Themes and images in this text:
Bells Butterflies and moths Clouds Coffins Eyes Flowers Graves and burials Green Hearts Hills and mountains Hope Laments, elegies and mourning Morning and morning songs Night and the moon Red and purple Rivers (Bächlein) Roses and pink Sheep and lambs Stars Tears and crying Valleys
The pathetic illusion is here inverted. Despite the young man’s grief, nature insists on going its own verdant way. Lambs gambol, butterflies flutter, the brook babbles, all totally oblivious to what has happened. It is hardly surprising that the young man only sees these things dimly, since he already knows what is about to happen. The tolling of the church bell and the funereal song of the other mourners strike him much more clearly.
After the body has been buried, the young man’s eyes clear. What he now ‘sees’ distinctly is the new day when he will join Rosy in the afterlife. After the sun sets he has sufficient vision to be able to read a message of hope in the stars and the moon. All of this is in such contrast to the dull, uninvolved ‘seeing’ earlier in the day.
We have to speculate about the back story. Why was this young man not part of the funeral procession from the beginning? In what way was the dead woman ‘his’ Rosy (Röschen)? Why had she died (presumably so young)? Had she been married off to someone else? Had she died in childbirth? Why was the young man so convinced that he would be re-united with her after death?
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Original Spelling Der Jüngling auf dem Hügel Ein Jüngling auf dem Hügel Mit seinem Kummer saß, Wohl ward der Augen Spiegel Ihm trüb' und tränennaß. Sah frohe Lämmer spielen Am grünen Felsenhang, Sah frohe Bächlein quillen Das bunte Tal entlang; Die Schmetterlinge sogen Am roten Blütenmund, Wie Morgenträume flogen Die Wolken in dem Rund; Und alles war so munter, Und alles schwamm in Glück, Nur in sein Herz hinunter Sah nicht der Freude Blick. Ach, dumpfes Grabgeläute Im Dorfe nun erklang, Schon tönte aus der Weite Ein klagender Gesang; Sah nun die Lichter scheinen, Den schwarzen Leichenzug, Fing bitter an zu weinen, Weil man sein Röschen trug. Jetzt ließ den Sarg man nieder, Der Totengräber kam, Und gab der Erde wieder, Was Gott aus selber nahm. Da schwieg des Jünglings Klage, Und betend ward sein Blick, Sah schon am schönern Tage Des Wiedersehens Glück. Und wie die Sterne kamen, Der Mond heraufgeschifft, Da las er in den Sternen Der Hoffnung hohe Schrift.
Note by Peter Rastl: Schubert received Hüttenbrenner’s poem in handwritten form. It was not published independently from Schubert’s song.