In spring
(Poet's title: Im Frühling)
Set by Schubert:
D 882
[March 1826]
Still sitz ich an des Hügels Hang,
Der Himmel ist so klar,
Das Lüftchen spielt im grünen Tal,
Wo ich beim ersten Frühlingsstrahl
Einst, ach, so glücklich war;
Wo ich an ihrer Seite ging,
So traulich und so nah,
Und tief im dunkeln Felsenquell
Den schönen Himmel blau und hell
Und sie im Himmel sah.
Sieh, wie der bunte Frühling schon
Aus Knosp’ und Blüte blickt,
Nicht alle Blüten sind mir gleich,
Am liebsten pflückt’ ich von dem Zweig,
Von welchem sie gepflückt.
Denn alles ist wie damals noch,
Die Blumen, das Gefild;
Die Sonne scheint nicht minder hell,
Nicht minder freundlich schwimmt im Quell
Das blaue Himmelsbild.
Es wandeln nur sich Will’ und Wahn,
Es wechseln Lust und Streit,
Vorüber flieht der Liebe Glück,
Und nur die Liebe bleibt zurück,
Die Lieb’ und ach, das Leid.
O wär ich doch ein Vöglein nur
Dort an dem Wiesenhang,
Dann blieb ich auf den Zweigen hier
Und säng ein süßes Lied von ihr
Den ganzen Sommer lang.
I am sitting quietly on the hillside,
The sky is so clear,
The breezes are playing in the green valley,
Where, with the first ray of spring sunshine, I
Was once, alas, so happy;
Where I walked by her side
So intimate and so close,
And deep in the dark spring amongst the rocks
I saw the beautiful sky, blue and bright,
And I saw her in the heavens.
Notice how the colourful springtime is already
Looking out of the buds and blossoms!
Not all the blossoms are the same to me,
I would prefer to pick from the branch
From which she picked.
For everything is still how it was then,
The flowers, the fields;
The sun is shining no less brightly,
You can see, no less friendly, swimming in the spring
The blue image of the heavens.
Desire and delusion are subject to change,
Pleasure and conflict change;
Love’s happiness flies off,
And only love remains behind,
Love, and, alas, suffering!
Oh, if only I were a little bird
Over there on that sloping meadow,
Then I would remain on this branch here
And sing a sweet song about her
For the whole of the summer.
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.
☙
Themes and images in this text:
Birds Branches Buds Colour (general) Detours and delusions Fields and meadows Flowers Green Heaven, the sky High, low and deep Hills and mountains Mirrors and reflections Noise and silence Rays of light Songs (general) Spring (season) Springs, sources and fountains Summer The sun Sweetness Valleys Wind
By the end of March, spring was in full swing around Göttingen in 1815. The world was at peace (despite Napoleon’s very recent escape from Elba), and Ernst Schulze was sitting on a hillside contemplating the beauty of nature and remembering lost happiness (Cäcilie Tychsen had died in December 1812). Everything was the same, though everything had changed.
This is the central theme of the poem, and it captures the profound mystery of every spring, not just that specific example in that place and at that time. Every spring the clarity of the sky and the exuberance of the blossom astonish us. Every year the same fields, trees and bushes burst into flower, yet the flowers are never the same: last year’s have long faded. Every year young people fall in love: an experience that is similarly subject to change, decay and loss. It is always the same; it is always different.
The poet’s experience of spring-time will always be fixated on the crucial year when he was walking with the beloved and looked down into the depths of a clear pool of spring water and in it saw her image against the clear blue sky – ‘sie im Himmel sah’ (I saw her in heaven). This moment of seeing in the past (sah – saw) makes him look around now. He asks us to look (‘Sieh’), but what he sees is that the flowers are not the same. The ones which she (sie) picked are not here. Nor is she. Only the branch remains. He wants to reach out to that same branch but he cannot pluck the same flowers. Now is not then.
Things come and go. Seasons pass. Desire and delusion, pleasure and strife actually pass away, but so does the happiness of love. What is so agonising about the beauty of this spring is that it brings back to him the memory of the happiness that he once had and has now lost (‘ich . . . Einst, ach, so glücklich war’).
He is trapped in this unchanging cycle. Any change that there is does not constitute development or growth. The poet begins in silence (‘Still sitz ich’) and ends with a song, but the song is imagined, not real. It is what he would sing if he were a bird sitting on the branch (her branch? the one where she picked the blossom?). He would sing about ‘her’. He is not referring to the poem we are reading, which is not a song about her. It has none of the simple happiness that inspires the bird. This is a poem about pain, about him, not her. She is the one that is truly silent.
☙
Original Spelling and note on the text Im Frühling Still sitz' ich an des Hügels Hang, Der Himmel ist so klar, Das Lüftchen spielt im grünen Thal, Wo ich beym ersten Frühlingsstrahl Einst, ach, so glücklich war; Wo ich an ihrer Seite ging So traulich und so nah, Und tief im dunkeln Felsenquell Den schönen Himmel blau und hell, Und sie im Himmel sah. Sieh, wie der bunte Frühling schon Aus Knosp' und Blüthe blickt! Nicht alle Blüthen sind mir gleich, Am liebsten pflückt' ich von dem Zweig, Von welchem sie gepflückt. Denn Alles ist wie damals noch, Die Blumen, das Gefild; Die Sonne scheint nicht minder hell, Nicht minder freundlich schwimmt im Quell Das blaue Himmelsbild. Es wandeln nur sich Will' und Wahn, Es wechseln Lust und Streit; Vorüber flieht der Liebe Glück, Und nur die Liebe bleibt zurück, Die Lieb' und ach, das Leid! O wär' ich doch ein1 Vöglein nur Dort an dem Wiesenhang, Dann blieb' ich auf den Zweigen hier Und säng' ein süßes Lied von ihr Den ganzen Sommer lang. 1 Schubert changed the original 'das' (the) to 'ein' (a)
Confirmed by Peter Rastl with Schubert’s source, Ernst Schulze’s sämmtliche poetische Schriften. Dritter Band. I. Poetisches Tagebuch. […] Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus. 1819, pages 98-99; and with Sämmtliche poetische Werke von Ernst Schulze. Neue Ausgabe mit sechszehn Kupfern. Dritter Theil. Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus. 1822, pages 99-100.
To see an early edition of the text, go to page 98 [114 von 336] here: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ170542803