Forget-me-not
(Poet's title: Vergissmeinnicht)
Set by Schubert:
D 792
[May 1823]
Als der Frühling sich vom Herzen
Der erblühten Erde riß,
Zog er noch einmal mit Schmerzen
Durch die Welt, die er verließ.
Wiesenschmelz und Saatengrüne
Grüßen ihn mit hellem Blühn,
Und die Schattenbaldachine
Dunklen Walds umsäuseln ihn.
Da im weichen Samt des Mooses
Sieht er, halb vom Grün verdeckt,
Schlummersüß ein kummerloses,
Holdes Wesen hingestreckt.
Ob’s ein Kind noch, ob’s ein Mädchen,
Wagt er nicht sich zu gestehn.
Kurze blonde Seidenfädchen
Um das runde Köpfchen wehn,
Zart noch sind die schlanken Glieder,
Unentfaltet die Gestalt,
Und doch scheint der Busen wieder
Schon von Regungen durchwallt.
Rosig strahlt der Wangen Feuer,
Lächelnd ist der Mund und schlau,
Durch der Wimpern duft’gen Schleier
Äugelt schalkhaft helles Blau.
Und der Frühling, wonnetrunken
Steht er und doch tief gerührt,
In das holde Bild versunken,
Fühlt er ganz, was er verliert.
Aber dringend mahnt die Stunde,
Dass er schnell von hinnen muss,
Ach, da brennt auf ihrem Munde
Glühend heiß der Scheidekuss,
Und in Duft ist er entschwunden.
Doch das Kind entfährt dem Schlaf,
Tief hat sie der Kuss entzunden,
Wie ein Blitzstrahl, der sie traf.
Alle Keime sind entfaltet,
Die ihr kleiner Busen barg,
Schnell zur Jungfrau umgestaltet,
Steigt sie aus der Kindheit Sarg.
Ihre blauen Augen schlagen
Ernst und liebelicht empor,
Nach dem Glück scheint sie zu fragen,
Was sie ungekannt verlor.
Aber niemand gibt ihr Kunde,
Alle sehn sie staunend an,
Und die Schwestern in der Runde,
Wissen nicht, wie ihr getan.
Ach sie weiß es selbst nicht. Tränen
Sprechen ihren Schmerz nur aus,
Und ein unergründlich Sehnen
Treibt sie aus sich selbst heraus,
Treibt sie fort, das Bild zu finden,
Das in ihrem Innern lebt,
Das ihr Ahnungen verkünden,
Das in Träumen sie umschwebt.
Felsen hat sie überklommen,
Berge steigt sie ab und auf,
Bis sie an den Fluss gekommen,
Der ihr hemmt den Strebelauf.
Doch im Ufergras, dem feuchten,
Wird ihr heißer Fuß gekühlt,
Und in seinem Spiegel leuchten
Siehet sie ihr eignes Bild,
Sieht des Himmels blaue Ferne,
Sieht der Wolken Purpurschein,
Sieht den Mond und alle Sterne,
Milder fühlt sie ihre Pein.
Denn es ist ihr aufgegangen,
Dass sie eine Seele fand,
Die ihr innigstes Verlangen,
Ihren tiefsten Schmerz verstand.
Gern mag sie an dieser Stelle
Sich die stille Wohnung baun,
Der verklärten, sanften Welle
Kann sie rückhaltslos vertraun,
Und sie fühlt sich ganz genesen,
Wenn sie zu dem Wasser spricht,
Wie zu dem geahnten Wesen:
O vergiss, vergiss mein nicht.
When spring tore himself away from the heart
Of the blossoming earth,
He painfully dragged himself once more
Through the world that he was leaving.
The lustre of the meadows and the green of the young crops
Greet him with a bright flowering,
And the shadowy canopy
Of the dark woods murmurs around him.
For in the soft velvet of the moss
He sees, half covered by greenery,
Sweetly slumbering, an untroubled
Beauteous being stretched out.
Whether it is still a child, whether it is a young woman,
He is in no position to decide.
Short blond silken threads
Flutter around her little round head.
Her slender limbs are still tender,
Her figure is smooth, unwrinkled,
And yet her breast appears to be
Stirring with movement already.
The fire of her cheeks shines like roses,
Her mouth is smiling and shrewd,
Through the scented veil of her eyelashes
Bright blue eyes look out mischievously.
And spring is drunk with bliss as
He stands there, yet he is deeply stirred;
Drowning in the beautiful image
He can feel everything that he is leaving behind!
But he is conscious of the imminent hour
When he will have to leave here quickly.
Oh! Burning there on her mouth
He imprints the hot, glowing farewell kiss.
And he has disappeared into fragrance. –
But the child escapes from sleep.
The kiss has inflamed her deeply
As if she has been struck by lightning.
All the shoots have sprung forth
That she was hiding in her tiny bosom,
She has suddenly turned into a young virgin
And she climbs out of the coffin of her childhood.
Her blue eyes strike out
Looking around seriously and lit up by love,
She appears to be asking about happiness,
Something which she had unknowingly lost.
But noone can give her any information,
They all look at her in astonishment
And her sisters all around
Know nothing about what has happened to her.
Oh, she does not know about it herself! – Tears
Are all that can express her pain,
And a fathomless longing
Drives her out of herself;
It drives her off to find the image
That is living inside her,
That her intuition tells her about,
That suffuses her dreams.
She has clambered over cliffs,
She climbs up and down mountains;
Until she has come to the river,
Which puts a stop to her frenzied course.
But in the damp grass of the riverbank
Her hot foot is cooled down,
And looking into the mirror of the river
She sees her own image.
She sees the blue distance of the sky,
She sees the crimson glow of the clouds,
She sees the moon and all the stars; –
Her pain feels less acute to her.
For she has realised
That she has found a soul
That understands her innermost longings
That understands her deepest pain.
She would like to stay in this spot
And build herself a quiet home,
Where she can trust the transfigured, gentle waves,
Where she will feel complete security.
And she feels that she has been fully healed,
When she speaks to the water,
As if speaking to the being she longs for:
O forget, forget me not!
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:
Blue Brothers and sisters By water – river banks Cheeks Chest / breast Climbing Clouds Coffins Corn and cornfields Dreams Evening and the setting sun Eyes Farewell and leave taking Feet Fields and meadows Flowers Forgetting Germination, shoots and sprouting Grass Green Hair Heaven, the sky High, low and deep Kissing Limbs Longing and yearning Lost and found Mirrors and reflections Moss Mountains and cliffs Mouths Night and the moon Pain Red and purple Rivers (Fluß) Smells Soothing and healing Soul Spring (season) Stars Surface of the water Tears and crying Thunder and lightning Waves – Welle Woods – large woods and forests (Wald)
Photo: Jörg Hempel
Schober, the author of this strange text, was many things over his long life (poet, librettist, actor, artist, photographer, secretary to Liszt amongst other activities) but even friends (such as Schubert) who saw him as a polymath rather than a dilettante would have admitted that he was no botanist. This long ballad, like its companion Viola (Schubert’s D 786), uses flower imagery in such a clumsy way that we soon realise that the focus of the text is related to exclusively human concerns. In this case Schober has modified Ovid’s story of the metamorphosis of Narcissus and applied it to the Forget-me-not in order to explore the nature of desire and sexual awakening.
There is no objective evidence about when or why the text was written, but we do know that Schubert set it, along with Viola and another fairly long Schober poem, Pilgerweise (D 789), in the spring of 1823 when he was coming to terms with the fact that he had been diagnosed with syphilis. It therefore seems reasonable to conclude that Schober wrote all three poems with the expectation that Schubert would set them to music, and that they might help his recovery in some way. Given that there was a widespread rumour at the time (and it has never died down) that Schober was culpable to some extent for encouraging Schubert in the unsafe sexual practices that had led to his infection, it is tempting to read Vergissmeinnicht as some sort of vindication, or at least an assertion of the need to accept the validity of burgeoning sexual passion.
Schober liked being liked, or rather he loved being adored (Schubert was far from the only person to have his head turned by him), and he was vain enough to see himself as the irresistible force of Spring itself, in both Vergissmeinnicht and Viola. The story of Vergissmeinnicht centres on the idea that Spring, having done his job, has to leave behind the fields and woods that he has brought into flower, and that his final act is to bestow a ‘farewell kiss’ on the figure that will become the pining Forget-me-not. In the spring of 1823 Schober was indeed planning to leave Vienna to take up a new job (acting) in Breslau (modern day Wrocław). He had to leave behind all of the blooming artistic talent of Vienna that he had inspired (as he saw it), not least the small, insignificant figure of young Franz Schubert, who despite his obscurity had produced great works (including an opera – Alfonso und Estrella – no less) in collaboration with him. Although he was leaving, it was pleasant to think that he might have made enough of an impact on this ‘little flower’ that ‘little Franz’ would always beg not to be forgotten.
The conceitedness of this Schober-centric view of the world and his belief in the transformative effect on all around him helps to explain the lack of clarity about the small figure who becomes the Forget-me-not. She is presented as a girl on the point of reaching puberty. Her limbs are slender and her skin is smooth, but as soon as she is kissed all her hidden seeds germinate (remember, Schober was no botanist). Even before the kiss her breast is bursting with passion, and after it she is transformed: she steps out of ‘the coffin of her childhood’, a ‘virgin’ but not virginal. As Schober presents the story, Spring’s parting kiss was the opposite of assault, it was an awakening. Although she did not express explicit prior consent (as modern readers would expect) her later gratitude and longing justify what he did. Before we become too outraged, we have to remember that just as the story is not ‘about’ flowers, neither is it ‘about’ non-consensual sex. We are dealing with all forms of opening up: to love, to ideas, to aesthetic experience, to spirituality and, of course, to sexual passion. The point about the kiss is that it worked: the small figure was receptive (others might have stayed in their ‘coffins’ or not woken up). She finds herself in a new world of experience, much of which is painful and frustrating, but her quest is worthwhile. As she looks down into the river she sees the distant sky above (in most of these quest stories we have to go away from the goal in order to approach it, we have to go down before we can be lifted up) and she begins to experience healing and solace. It is surely this that Schober was hoping that his dear friend Schubert was about to find.
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Original Spelling and notes on the text Vergißmeinnicht Als der Frühling sich vom Herzen Der erblühten Erde riß, Zog er noch einmal mit Schmerzen Durch die Welt, die er verließ. Wiesenschmelz und Saatengrüne Grüßen ihn mit hellem Blühn, Und die Schattenbaldachine Dunklen Walds umsäuseln ihn. Da im weichen Sammt des Mooses Sieht er, halb vom Grün verdeckt, Schlummersüß, ein kummerloses Holdes Wesen hingestreckt. Ob's ein Kind noch, ob's ein Mädchen, Wagt er nicht sich zu gestehn. Kurze blonde Seidenfädchen Um das runde Köpfchen wehn. Zart noch sind die schlanken Glieder, Unentfaltet1 die Gestalt, Und doch scheint der Busen wieder Schon von Regungen durchwallt. Rosig strahlt der Wangen Feuer, Lächelnd ist der Mund und schlau, Durch der Wimpern duft'gen Schleier Aeugelt schalkhaft helles Blau. Und der Frühling, wonnetrunken Steht er, und doch tief gerührt; In das holde Bild versunken, Fühlt er ganz, was er verliert! Aber dringend mahnt die Stunde, Daß er schnell von hinnen muß. Ach! da brennt auf ihrem Munde Glühend heiß der2 Scheidekuß. Und in Duft ist er entschwunden. - Doch das Kind entfährt dem Schlaf, Tief hat sie der Kuß entzunden, Wie ein Blitzstrahl, der sie traf. Alle Keime sind entfaltet, Die ihr kleiner Busen barg, Schnell zur Jungfrau umgestaltet, Steigt sie aus der Kindheit Sarg. Ihre blauen Augen schlagen Ernst und liebelicht empor, Nach dem Glück scheint sie zu fragen, Was3 sie ungekannt verlor. Aber Niemand gibt ihr Kunde, Alle sehn sie staunend an, Und die Schwestern in der Runde, Wissen nicht wie ihr gethan. Ach sie weiß es selbst nicht! - Thränen Sprechen ihren Schmerz nur aus, Und ein unergründlich Sehnen Treibt sie aus sich selbst heraus; Treibt sie fort, das Bild zu finden, Das in ihrem Innern lebt, Das ihr Ahnungen verkünden, Das in Träumen sie umschwebt. Felsen hat sie überklommen, Berge steigt sie ab und auf; Bis sie an den Fluß gekommen, Der ihr hemmt den Strebelauf. Doch4 im Ufergras dem feuchten, Wird ihr heißer Fuß gekühlt, Und in seinem Spiegel5 leuchten Siehet sie ihr eignes Bild. Sieht des Himmels blaue Ferne, Sieht der Wolken Purpurschein, Sieht den Mond und alle Sterne; - Milder fühlt sie ihre Pein. Denn es ist ihr aufgegangen: Daß sie eine Seele fand, Die ihr innigstes Verlangen, Ihren tiefsten Schmerz verstand. Gern mag sie an dieser Stelle Sich die stille Wohnung bau'n, Der verklärten sanften Welle Kann sie rückhaltslos vertrau'n. Und sie fühlt sich ganz genesen, Wenn sie zu dem Wasser spricht, Wie zu dem geahnten Wesen: O vergiß, vergiß mein nicht! 1 Schubert appears to have changed Schober's 'Unentwickelt' (undeveloped) to 'Unentfaltet' (smooth, unwrinkled) 2 Schubert changed 'sein' (his) to 'der' (the) 3 Schubert changed 'Das' (Which) to 'Was' (Something which) 4 Schubert changed 'Hier' (Here) to 'Doch' (But) 5 Schubert changed 'im Wellenspiegel' (in the mirror of the waves) to 'in seinem Spiegel' (in its mirror)
Confirmed by Peter Rastl with Gedichte von Franz von Schober. Stuttgart und Tübingen. J. G. Cotta’scher Verlag. 1842, pages 15-18; and with Gedichte von Franz von Schober. Zweite, vermehrte Auflage. Leipzig Verlagsbuchhandlung von J. J. Weber. 1865, pages 16-20.
Note: Schubert received all poems from Schober in handwritten form. A (possibly later) autograph of this poem is kept in the Vienna City Library.
To see an early edition of the text, go to page 15 [33 von 292] here: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ20766660X