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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Airwolf" data-source="post: 381892" data-attributes="member: 2905">Here are a few more I recently heard at a recital.  They were sung in German and sounded much better than the look on the paper in English.My  Love ShinesOpus 127 No. 3Heinrich Heine(1840)My love shineIn its dark gloryLike a fairy tale, sand and dimTold in a summer night.In the enchanted garden wanderTow lovers silent and alone,The nightingales are singing,There shimmers the light of the moon.The maiden stands still like a statue,The knight kneels at her feet.There comes the giant of the wilderness,The frightened maiden flees.The knight sinks bleeding to the ground,The giant stumbles home.And when I shall be buried,Then the fairy tale will come to an end.Der SoldatOpus 40 no. 3Hans Christian Anderson(July 1840)We march to muffled sound of drums.How far still the place, the road was long!Oh were he at rest and everything over.I think my heart is breaking in two.In this world I loved none like my brother,He, to whom they now give deathWith drums and trumpets we are on parade,And I also, I also am in command.Now he looks up for the last timeInto the birght rays of God’s sun.Now they tie the blindfold over his eyes.May god give you eternal peace.Nine have then taken aim,Eight bullets went past their mark:They all tremble with sorrow and pain,But I, I shot him right through his heart!  The Hidalgo*Opus 30 No. 3Emanuel Geible(August 1840)So sweet it is to sportWith songs and heartsAnd serious quarrel!When the moon gleams,From my room I’m drawn,Through square and streets;As ready for loveAs for a fight.The beauties of SevilleWith fan and mantilla **Gaze up the river;With favor they listenWhen my songs soundTo the mandolin,And dark roses dropFrom the balcony as thanksSinging, I carryMy zither and my bladeOf Toledo steel.At many a lattice I singAnd mock many a knightIn bold song as well,The zither for the ladies,The blade for the rival.Off, then, to adventure,The sun’s fire has gone outBeyond the hills.The moon hours of nightWill bring tidings of loveWill bring bloody combat***And flowers or woundsI’ll bear home tomorrow.* A member of the minor nobility in Spain.** A scarf, usually of lace.*** The original text may translate as bloody combat or as blooming bouquets, thus the explanation of the pun in the next line.To do these songs justice they should be sung in German.  But since I don’t speak German here is the English translation.  Robert Schumann put them to music.</blockquote>

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