Longing
(Poet's title: Das Sehnen)
Set by Schubert:
D 231
[July 8, 1815]
Part of Kosegarten (putative cycle)
Wehmut, die mich hüllt,
Welche Gottheit stillt
Mein unendlich Sehnen?
Die ihr meine Wimper nässt,
Namenlosen Gram entpresst,
Fließet, fließet Tränen.
Mond, der lieb und traut
In mein Fenster schaut,
Sage, was mir fehle?
Sterne, die ihr droben blinkt,
Holden Gruß mir freundlich winkt,
Nennt mir, was mich quäle.
Leise Schauer wehn,
Süßes Liebesflehn
Girrt um mich im Düstern.
Rosen- und Violenduft
Würzen rings die Zauberluft.
Holde Stimmen flüstern.
In die Ferne strebt,
Wie auf Flügeln schwebt
Mein erhöhtes Wesen.
Fremder Zug, geheime Kraft,
Namenlose Leidenschaft,
Lass, ach lass genesen.
Ängstender beklemmt
Mich die Wehmut, hemmt
Atem mir und Rede.
Einsam schmachten, o der Pein!
O des Grams, allein zu sein
In des Lebens Öde.
Ist denn ach kein Arm,
Der in Freud und Harm
Liebend mich umschlösse?
Ist denn ach kein fühlend Herz,
Keines, drin in Lust und Schmerz
Meines sich ergösse?
Die ihr einsam klagt,
Einsam, wenn es tagt,
Einsam wenn es nachtet,
Ungeströstet ach, verächzt
Ihr das holde Dasein, lechzt,
Schmachtet und verschmachtet.
How sorrow envelops me!
What divinity will calm
My endless longing?
As you dampen my eyelids
Oppressed with nameless pain
Flow, flow, you tears!
Moon, as you lovingly and intimately
Look into my window,
Tell me, what am I lacking?
Stars, gleaming up there,
Gesturing to me with a beauteous greeting,
Name what it is that is disturbing me!
Gentle shudders cause pain,
Sweet pleadings of love can be heard
Cooing around me in darkness.
The scents of roses and violets
Add spice to the magical air.
Beautiful voices whisper.
Struggling in the distance,
As if hovering on wings,
Is my heightened being.
Alien pull, secret power,
Nameless suffering,
Oh let me, let me recover!
More anxiously oppressed
As I am by sorrow, I have difficulty
Breathing and speaking.
Languishing alone, oh what pain!
Oh the grief of being alone
In the barrenness of life.
So is there then no arm
Which in joy and affliction
Will embrace me with love?
So is there then no feeling heart,
Noone who, in pleasure or pain,
Will take delight in me?
You who lament alone,
Alone when day breaks,
Alone when night sets in,
Uncomforted, oh, you scorn
This beautiful existence, you pant,
Languishing and parched.
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:
Air Arms and embracing Being solitary, alone and lonely Birds Breath and breathing Covers and covering Doves and pigeons Evening and the setting sun Eyes Hearts Laments, elegies and mourning Longing and yearning Magic and enchantment Names Near and far Night and the moon Pain Pulling and dragging Roses and pink Smells Stars Sweetness Tears and crying Violets Whispering Windows Wings
Is it depression? Loneliness? Hypochondria? Schizophrenia? A personality disorder? Just a case of unrequited love? The speaker in Kosegarten’s text would like an answer and even asks the stars for a diagnosis! It is all too easy for us to jump in and attempt to give a name to what this speaker experiences as ‘nameless agony’, but even Robert Burton, after devoting a lifetime of study to the nature of ‘Melancholy’, concluded that it probably was not a single, identifiable condition (The Anatomy of Melancholy, first edition 1621).
For the speaker the world is not dull or lacking in emotion; that is part of the problem. He feels that he is on intimate terms with the moon, and the stars seem to send friendly signs to him. He is aware of lovers in the environment, particularly in the natural world (the cooing that can be heard in the darkness reminds us of the doves that lead the speaker in Hölty’s Die Mainacht, Schubert’s D 194, to shed a tear). The air is ‘magical’ and the speaker responds positively to the scent of roses and violets. This is not someone whose depression has enervated them and left them insensitive to the world around them.
More problematic is the sense of self and the speaker’s identity. He feels that his (over) sensitivity has raised him up and left him struggling somewhere far away, as if flapping wings in vain. He feels himself pulled by something alien; there is some compulsion that is tugging at him. He is specifically not ‘driven’, there is no ‘inner’ motivation pushing him towards sorrow. It is all beyond him.
The sadness makes him increasingly anxious and therefore unsociable. He has difficulties with both breathing and speaking. He knows that he is on his own, and on this level, from this perspective, life (his own life, if not the world around him) is barren and desolate. He is desperate for a helping hand to reach out but seems to be aware that he is in a place where he can never be reached. He realises that his own attempts to analyse his melancholy are only increasing his isolation and alienation from ‘this beautiful reality’ (das holde Dasein). His poem is no speaking cure; all he is doing is panting and becoming parched. It has left him gasping and we are no nearer to being able to give a name to his appalling condition.
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Original Spelling Das Sehnen Wehmuth, die mich hüllt, Welche Gottheit stillt Mein unendlich Sehnen? Die ihr meine Wimper näßt, Namenlosen Gram entpreßt, Fliesset, fliesset Thränen! Mond, der lieb und traut In mein Fenster schaut, Sage, was mir fehle? Sterne, die ihr droben blinkt, Holden Gruß mir freundlich winkt, Nennt mir, was mich quäle. Leise Schauer wehn, Süsses Liebesflehn Girrt um mich im Düstern. Rosen- und Violenduft Würzen rings die Zauberluft, Holde Stimmen flüstern. In die Ferne strebt! Wie auf Flügeln schwebt Mein erhöhtes Wesen. Fremder Zug, geheime Kraft, Namenlose Leidenschaft, Laß, ach laß genesen! Ängstender beklemmt Mich die Wehmuth, hemmt Athem mir und Rede. Einsam schmachten, o der Pein! O des Grams, allein zu seyn In des Lebens Oede. Ist denn ach kein Arm, Der in Freud' und Harm Liebend mich umschlösse? Ist denn ach kein fühlend Herz, Keines, drin in Lust und Schmerz Meines sich ergösse? Die ihr einsam klagt, Einsam wenn es tagt, Einsam wenn es nachtet. Ungeströstet ach, verächzt Ihr das holde Daseyn, lechzt, Schmachtet und verschmachtet.
Confirmed by Peter Rastl with L.T.Kosegarten’s Poesieen, Neueste Auflage, Dritter Band, Berlin 1803, pages 12-14. This is the source used by Schubert. Kosegarten’s poem is slightly different in later editions; it has the title “Sehnsucht”
To see an early edition of the text, go to page 12 [16 von 274] here: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ184217108