RundfunkchorLounge »Die Kunst des Alleinseins«

These are the days when Birds come back –
A very few – a Bird or two –
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old – old sophistries of June –
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee –
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear –
And softly thro' the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze –
Permit a child to join.

Thy sacred emblems to partake –
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!

Wild nights! – Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the Wind –
To a heart in port, –
Done with the Compass, –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah! the Sea!
Might I but moor – Tonight –
In thee!

Heart, we will forget him
You and I, tonight.
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, –
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.

Why do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing too loud?
But I can say a little “Minor”
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn’t the Angels try me
Just once more
Just see if I troubled them
But don’t shut the door!

Oh, if I were the Gentleman
In the “White Robe”
And they were the little Hand that knocked
Would I forbid?

Why do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing too loud?

The World feels Dusty
When We stop to Die
We want the Dew then
Honors taste dry

Flags vex a Dying face
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend’s Hand
Cools like the Rain

Mine be the Ministry
When they Thirst comes
Dews of Thyself to fetch
And Holy Balms

Heart, we will forget him
You and I, tonight.
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometimes
In a Cathedral Aisle,
And understood no word it said
Yet held my breath, the while

And risen up and gone away,
A more Berdardine Girl
Yet know not what was done to me
In that old Hallowed Aisle.

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The carriage held but just ourselves –
and Immortality.

We slowly drove – he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too
For His Civility –

We passed the school, where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done.
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
a swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

O solitude, my sweetest choice!
Places devoted to the night,
Remote from tumult and from noise,
How ye my restless thoughts delight!
O solitude, my sweetest choice!

O heav'ns! what content is mine
To see these trees, which have appear'd
From the nativity of time,
And which all ages have rever'd,
To look today as fresh and green
As when their beauties first were seen.

O, how agreeable a sight
These hanging mountains do appear,
Which th' unhappy would invite
To finish all their sorrows here,
When their hard fate makes them endure
Such woes as only death can cure.

O, how I solitude adore!
That element of noblest wit,
Where I have learnt Apollo's lore,
Without the pains to study it.

For thy sake I in love am grown
With what thy fancy does pursue;
But when I think upon my own,
I hate it for that reason too,
Because it needs must hinder me
From seeing and from serving thee.
O solitude, O how I solitude adore!

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,
Mit der ich sonst viele Zeit verdorben,
Sie hat so lange nichts von mir vernommen,
Sie mag wohl glauben, ich sei gestorben!

Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen,
Ob sie mich für gestorben hält,
Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen,
Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt.

Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgetümmel,
Und ruh’ in einem stillen Gebiet!
Ich leb’ allein in meinem Himmel,
In meinem Lieben, in meinem Lied!

Die Guten gehen im gleichen Schritt.
Ohne von ihnen zu wissen, tanzen die andern
um sie die Tänze der Zeit.

Wie ein Weg im Herbst: Kaum ist er reingekehrt,
bedeckt er sich wieder mit den trockenen Blättern.

Ruhelos!

Nimmermehr, nimmermehr kehrst Du wieder in die Städte,
nimmermehr tönt die große Glocke über Dir.

Die Weißnäherinnen in den Regengüssen.

Geschlafen, aufgewacht, geschlafen, aufgewacht,
elendes Leben.

Meine Ohrmuschel fühlte sich frisch, rauh, kühl,
saftig an wie ein Blatt.

Einmal brach ich mir das Bein,
es war das schönste Erlebnis meines Lebens.

Träumend hing die Blume am hohen Stengel.
Abenddämmerung umzog sie.

Es gibt ein Ziel, aber keinen Weg;
was wir Weg nehmen, ist Zögern.

Noch spielen die Jagdhunde im Hof, aber das Wild entgeht ihnen nicht,
so sehr es jetzt schon durch die Wälder jagt.

Nun ist es still da draußen,
Die Wälder rauschen sacht,
Die Ströme murmelnd rinnen,
Es geht ein tiefes Sinnen
Hin durch die tiefe Nacht.

Des Windes leises Wehen
Säuselt im hohen Ried;
Die Sterne droben kreisen,
Tönend in ewigen Weisen
Ihr ewig großes Lied.

Die Welt ist groß und prächtig
Zu solcher stillen Zeit;
Es schweigt das eigne Denken,
Es will ins All versenken
Sich stumm das eigne Leid.

In my solitude
You haunt me
With reveries
Of days gone by

In my solitude
You taunt me
With memories
That never die

I sit in my chair
And filled with despair
There's no one could be so sad
With gloom everywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that I'll soon go mad

In my solitude
I'm afraid
Dear Lord above
Send back my love