Impatience
(Poet's title: Ungeduld)
Set by Schubert:
D 795/7
[October to November 1823]
Part of Die schöne Müllerin, D 795
Ich schnitt es gern in alle Rinden ein,
Ich grüb es gern in jeden Kieselstein,
Ich möcht es sä’n auf jedes frische Beet,
Mit Kressensamen, der es schnell verrät,
Auf jeden weißen Zettel möcht’ ich’s schreiben:
Dein ist mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben.
Ich möcht mir ziehen einen jungen Star,
Bis dass er spräch die Worte rein und klar,
Bis er sie spräch mit meines Mundes Klang,
Mit meines Herzens vollem, heißen Drang;
Dann säng er hell durch ihre Fensterscheiben:
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.
Den Morgenwinden möcht ich’s hauchen ein,
Ich möcht es säuseln durch den regen Hain,
O leuchtet’ es aus jedem Blumenstern!
Trüg es der Duft zu ihr von nah und fern!
Ihr Wogen, könnt ihr nichts als Räder treiben?
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.
Ich meint, es müsst in meinen Augen stehn,
Auf meinen Wangen müsst man’s brennen sehn,
Zu lesen wär’s auf meinem stummen Mund,
Ein jeder Atemzug gäb’s laut ihr kund,
Und sie merkt nichts von all dem bangen Treiben:
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben!
I could happily carve it into the bark of every tree,
I could happily engrave it on every pebble stone,
I would like to sow it on this clear soil
Using cress seeds, which would soon let the secret out,
I would like to write it on every white piece of paper:
My heart is yours, and it will remain so for ever.
I would like to train a young starling
Until it could say the words loud and clear,
Until it could speak with the sound of my own mouth,
With the full, warm pressure of my heart;
Then it would sing clearly through her window panes:
My heart is yours, and it will remain so for ever.
I would like to breathe it to the morning winds,
I would like to murmur it through the rustling woods;
Oh, if only it could shine out of every open flower!
If only scents would carry it to her from near and far!
Oh waves, can you drive nothing apart from wheels?
My heart is yours, and it will remain so for ever.
I thought it must be visible in my eyes,
That people would see it burning on my cheeks,
That it would be legible on my silent mouth,
With every breath I exhale passing on the message loud and clear;
Yet she notices none of this anxious disturbance:
My heart is yours, and it will remain so for ever.
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:
Birds  Breath and breathing  Cheeks  Eternity  Eyes  Flowers  Hearts  Mills  Morning and morning songs  Mouths  Near and far  Noise and silence  Seeds  Smells  Trees (general)  Waves – Woge  White  Wind  Windows  Woods – groves and clumps of trees (Hain)  Writing 
‘Colin,’ said Cuddy then, ‘thou hast forgot Thy selfe, me seemes, too much, to mount so hie: Such loftie flight base shepheard seemeth not, From flocks and fields to angels and to skie.’ ‘True,’ answered he, ‘but her great excellence Lifts me above the measure of my might: That, being fild with furious insolence, I feele my selfe like one yrapt in spright. For when. I thinke of her, as oft I ought, Then want I words to speake it fitly forth: And when I speake of her what I have thought, I cannot thinke according to her worth. Yet will I thinke of her, yet will I speake, So long as life my limbs doth hold together, And when as death these vitall bands shall breake, Her name recorded I will leave for ever. Her name in every tree I will endosse, That, as the trees do grow, her name may grow: And in the ground each where will it engrosse, And fill with stones, that all men may it know. The speaking woods and murmuring waters fall, Her name Ile teach in knowen termes to frame: And eke my lambs, when for their dams they call, Ile teach to call for Cynthia by name. And long while after I am dead and rotten, Amongst the shepheards daughters dancing rownd, My layes made of her shall not be forgotten, But sung by them with flowry gyrlonds crownd. And ye, who so ye be, that shall survive, When as ye heare her memory renewed, Be witnesse of her bountie here alive, Which she to Colin her poore shepheard shewed.’ Much was the whole assembly of those heards Moov’d at his speech, so feelingly he spake, And stood awhile astonisht at his words . . . From Edmund Spenser, Colin Clouts Come Home Againe (1591, first published 1595)
EARL OF WORCESTER Good cousin, give me audience for a while. HOTSPUR I cry you mercy. EARL OF WORCESTER Those same noble Scots That are your prisoners,-- HOTSPUR I'll keep them all; By God, he shall not have a Scot of them; No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: I'll keep them, by this hand. EARL OF WORCESTER You start away And lend no ear unto my purposes. Those prisoners you shall keep. HOTSPUR Nay, I will; that's flat: He said he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer!' Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him To keep his anger still in motion. EARL OF WORCESTER Hear you, cousin; a word. HOTSPUR All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales, But that I think his father loves him not And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale. EARL OF WORCESTER Farewell, kinsman: I'll talk to you When you are better temper'd to attend. William Shakespeare, Henry IV Part One Act I Scene 3 (1598)
Wilhelm Müller is generally known in Germany as ‘Greek’ Müller (because of his support for Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire). It is much less well-known that he was an Anglophone (and Anglophile), who published a translation of Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus at the age of twenty. We should therefore not be too surprised that he seems to have drawn on his detailed knowledge of Elizabethan drama and poetry in his own work. Whether or not the reference in Ungeduld to training the starling to repeat a phrase derives from Shakespeare is debatable, but it is hard to avoid the conclusion that the opening of the text is a reworking of Spenser’s pastoral.
Colin (Spenser’s simple shepherd) lists all of the elements of his environment that he wants to use to declare his love for Cynthia, and Müller has used this to convey something of the miller boy’s teeming poetic sensibility. The lad’s passion is so great that he wants to write it everywhere, on bits of paper, on the bark of trees and even in sprouting cress seeds. These vivid images are in sharp contrast with his ability to communicate in direct speech. Three stanzas of Ungeduld are about what he would like to write, what he wants to say but cannot, and the final one is his realisation that he has failed to communicate any of this! Even his body language lacks the fluency and the clarity to convey his message. Müller has achieved the major feat of giving us access to the inner world of someone who is in effect inarticulate.
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Original Spelling Ungeduld Ich schnitt' es gern in alle Rinden ein, Ich grüb' es gern in jeden Kieselstein, Ich möcht' es sä'n auf jedes frische Beet Mit Kressensamen, der es schnell verräth, Auf jeden weißen Zettel möcht' ich's schreiben: Dein ist mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben. Ich möcht' mir ziehen einen jungen Staar, Bis daß er spräch' die Worte rein und klar, Bis er sie spräch' mit meines Mundes Klang, Mit meines Herzens vollem, heißen Drang; Dann säng' er hell durch ihre Fensterscheiben: Dein ist mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben. Den Morgenwinden möcht' ich's hauchen ein, Ich möcht' es säuseln durch den regen Hain; O, leuchtet' es aus jedem Blumenstern! Trüg' es der Duft zu ihr von nah' und fern! Ihr Wogen, könnt ihr nichts als Räder treiben? Dein ist mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben. Ich meint', es müßt' in meinen Augen stehn, Auf meinen Wangen müßt' man's brennen sehn, Zu lesen wär's auf meinem stummen Mund, Ein jeder Athemzug gäb's laut ihr kund; Und sie merkt nichts von all' dem bangen Treiben: Dein ist mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben.
Confirmed with Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten. Herausgegeben von Wilhelm Müller. Erstes Bändchen. Zweite Auflage. Deßau 1826. Bei Christian Georg Ackermann, pages 19-20; and with Sieben und siebzig Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten. Herausgegeben von Wilhelm Müller. Dessau, 1821. Bei Christian Georg Ackermann, pages 20-21.
Published also in Frauentaschenbuch für das Jahr 1821 von de la Motte Fouqué. Nürnberg bei Joh. Leonh. Schrag, pages 401-402.
To see an early edition of the text, go to page 20 Erstes Bild 31 here: https://download.digitale-sammlungen.de/BOOKS/download.pl?id=bsb10115224