Agnes


Rosenzeit! Wie schnell vorbei,
        Schnell vorbei
Bist du doch gegangen!
Waer mein Lieb nur blieben treu,
        Blieben treu,
Sollte mir nicht bangen.

Um die Ernte wohlgemut,
        Wohlgemut
Schnitterinnen singen.
Aber, ach! mir kranken Blut,
        Mir kranken Blut
Will nichts mehr gelingen.

Schleiche so durchs Wiesental,
        So durchs Tal,
Als im Traum verloren,
Nach dem Berg, da tausendmal,
        Tausendmal
Er mir Treu geschworen.

Oben auf des Huegels Rand,
        Abgewandt,
Wein ich bei der Linde;
An dem Hut mein Rosenband,
        Von seiner Hand,
Spielet in dem Winde.


Eduard Moerike  1831



Agnes


Time of Roses! How quick in passing,
         Quick in passing
Like you were when you left me!
Had you been but true to me
         True to me,
I would not be troubled.

At the harvest all lighthearted,
         All lighthearted
Reaping girls are singing.
But, ah! poor heart of mine
         Poor heart of mine
Of no use is all my trying.

Up through the valley I now trudge,
         I now trudge,
As if 'twere in a dream,
To the hill where untold times
         Untold times
He had pledged his love to me.

Up on that hill on its far edge,
 From all eyes removed,
By the linden I stand weeping;
On my hat a red rose ribbon,
         A gift from him,
Flutters limply in the wind.


Translation: Charles L. Cingolani      Copyright © 2008
. . . . One feels the music, the slow, heavy beat, the sadness . . .