Time

Napoleon clock
Napoleon clock


Es floh die Zeit im Wirbelfluge 
Und trug des Lebens Plan mit sich. 
Wohl stürmisch war es auf dem Zuge, 
Beschwerlich oft und widerlich.  

So ging es fort durch alle Zonen, 
Durch Kinderjahre, Jugendglück, 
Durch Täler, wo die Freuden wohnen, 
Die sinnend sucht der Sehnsucht Blick.  

Bis an der Freundschaft lichtem Hügel 
Die Zeit nun sanfter, stiller flog, 
Und endlich da die raschen Flügel 
In süßer Ruh zusammenbog.

Time flew off in a whirlwind
And it carried life's plan with it.
It was really stormy as it followed its course,
Often arduous and disturbing.

Thus it went on its way through all the stages,
Through the years of childhood, the happiness of youth,
Through valleys where joys live,
Joys that are sought for by longing's meditative look.

Until at the bright hill of friendship
Time started to fly more gently, more quietly,
And finally there it stopped its rapid wings
And folded them up in sweet repose.

Széchényi, Der Flug der Zeit	D515

Time flies in retrospect. It is only as we look back that we realise the speed of its passing. Count Széchényi, the author of ‘The flight of time’, was probably around 40 years old when he wrote this strange poem, which was never published separately from Schubert’s setting of it (as part of his Opus 7). We know nothing about why he wrote the text, who the friends were that are referred to in the final stanza, or how his manuscript found its way to Franz Schubert. We can only speculate about why the theme of ‘time’ was so significant for him.

For time is also central in the only other Schubert Széchényi setting (the first work in Opus 7), Die abgeblühte Linde (The bare lime tree):


Wirst du halten, was du schwurst, 
Wenn mir die Zeit die Locken bleicht? 
Wie du über Berge fuhrst, 
Eilt das Wiedersehn nicht leicht.  

Ändrung ist das Kind der Zeit, 
Womit Trennung uns bedroht, 
Und was die Zukunft beut, 
Ist ein blässer's Lebensrot.  

Sieh, die Linde blühet noch, 
Als du heute von ihr gehst; 
Wirst sie wieder finden, doch 
Ihre Blüten stiehlt der West.  

Einsam steht sie dann, vorbei 
Geht man kalt, bemerkt sie kaum. 
Nur der Gärtner bleibt ihr treu, 
Denn er liebt in ihr den Baum.

Will you stick to what you have sworn
When time has bleached my hair?
Since you are setting off over the mountains
It is not going to be easy to rush to see each other again.

Change is the child of time,
Which separation threatens us with,
And what the future holds
Is a paler shade of life's red.

Look, this lime tree is still in blossom
As you depart from it today;
When you come across it again, though,
The westerly wind will have stolen its blossoms.

It will then be standing on its own; as they pass by
People will be cold and and will barely notice it.
Only the gardener will remain faithful to it,
For he loves the tree for its own sake.

Széchényi, Die abgeblühte Linde 	D 514

Change and continuity is the question here. As we and the world inevitably change, can we expect affection to remain? Will anyone value us for who we are rather than for our appearance or what we have to offer them? The gardener ‘loves the tree for its own sake’, but will there be anyone similarly devoted to me ‘when time has bleached my hair’?

Count Széchényi’s early life was dominated by the buffetting of the Napoleonic wars and the collapse of the Holy Roman Empire. He probably wrote this poem around the time of the death of his father and inheriting his estate in Hungary (as well as a large palace in central Vienna). It is perhaps not surprising that this aristocrat (with a rich inner life and a deep interest in the arts) asked himself if anyone was ever going to value him for himself rather than for his title and his property.

Around the same time that Széchényi was writing these two texts, another citizen of Vienna, the civil servant Johann Mayrhofer rode on a small boat on the River Danube and observed the trees on the mountainside and the remains of the buildings of the founders of the Austrian Empire. Nothing seems to be fixed. Unlike the lime tree which stands firm despite the ravages of time, everything here is vulnerable. Decay and collapse seem inevitable. The boat is overwhelmed by the waves and we are at risk of drowning. Time is here a flood rather than a flight.


Auf der Wellen Spiegel 
Schwimmt der Kahn. 
Alte Burgen ragen 
Himmelan; 
Tannenwälder rauschen 
Geistergleich - 
Und das Herz im Busen 
Wird uns weich.  

Denn der Menschen Werke 
Sinken all'; 
Wo ist Turm, wo Pforte, 
Wo der Wall, 
Wo sie selbst, die Starken,
Erzgeschirmt, 
Die in Krieg und Jagden 
Hingestürmt? 

Trauriges Gestrüppe 
Wuchert fort, 
Während frommer Sage 
Kraft verdorrt. 
Und im kleinen Kahne 
Wird uns bang - 
Wellen drohn, wie Zeiten, 
Untergang.

On the mirror of waves
Swims the boat.
Old castles reach up
Towards the sky;
Forests of fir trees rustle
Like ghosts - 
And the hearts in our breasts
Become soft.

For the things produced by humans
All sink;
Where is the tower, where the gate, 
Where the rampart,
Where are they themselves, those strong men?
Those who were protected by armour
And went to war and went hunting,
Going on the attack.

Sad undergrowth
Is growing rampant,
Whilst pious legends'
Power withers away.
And in this small boat
We become anxious - 
Both the waves and time threaten us with
Ruin.

Mayrhofer, Auf der Donau 	D 553

Mayrhofer shared the assumption of many of the Greek thinkers that he venerated that time and change were problematic. For Plato and his followers, anything that is undergoing change is by definition imperfect since whatever is true and real must be fixed and permanent.

A similar attitude seems to lie behind Stolberg’s Auf dem Wasser zu singen (To be sung on the water) D 774. As a boat rocks on the gentle waves of a lake at sunset the poet begins to feel that his soul is being released from the bounds of time. The boat continues to rock, and as yesterday becomes tomorrow time itself becomes insignificant. I too, usually so limited in time and space, begin to break free from my moorings as I am rocked into timelessness.


Mitten im Schimmer der spiegelnden Wellen
Gleitet, wie Schwäne, der wankende Kahn.
Ach, auf der Freude sanft schimmernden Wellen
Gleitet die Seele dahin wie der Kahn;.	
Denn von dem Himmel herab auf die Wellen
Tanzet das Abendrot rund um den Kahn.	

Über den Wipfeln des westlichen Haines	
Winket uns freundlich der rötliche Schein.
Unter den Zweigen des östlichen Haines	
Säuselt der Kalmus im rötlichen Schein.	
Freude des Himmels und Ruhe des Haines	
Atmet die Seel im errötenden Schein.	
	
Ach, es entschwindet mit tauigem Flügel	
Mir auf den wiegenden Wellen die Zeit.	
Morgen entschwindet mit schimmerndem Flügel
Wieder wie gestern und heute die Zeit,
Bis ich auf höherem strahlendem Flügel
Selber entschwinde der wechselnden Zeit.	

In the middle of the shimmer of the mirroring waves
The rocking boat is gliding like swans;
Oh, on the gently shimmering waves of joy
The soul is gliding along like the boat;
Because coming down from the sky onto the waves
The sunset is dancing around the boat.

Over the treetops of the woods in the west
The reddish glow is beckoning to us in a friendly way; 
Under the branches of the woods in the east
The acorus plants are rustling in the reddish glow;
The joy of heaven and the calm of the woods - 
The soul is breathing these in in the reddening glow.

Oh, with its dewy wings it is vanishing,
Time is vanishing for me on these rocking waves; 
With shimmering wings it is going to vanish tomorrow
Again, time will vanish like yesterday and today,
Until I, on higher, beaming wings,
Myself vanish into changing time.

Stolberg-Stolberg, Auf dem Wasser zu singen  D 774

☙

Descendant of: 

TIME  


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