Art Rimbaud Project: Lyrics

Von Liebe Träumtest Du
[Vocals: Tony Caulfield | Music: Martin Diehl]

[Scroll down for an English translation of Arthur Rimbaud's original poem.]

Helft mir, oh Wolken
Oh Wolken, steht mir bei
Laßt mir kein Leid geschehen
Laßt mich gesund und unbesiegbar sein.

Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht,
Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht...

Von Liebe träumtest du, von Freiheit, Seligkeit,...
Du gingst in ihnen auf wie leichter Schnee im Feuer.

Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht...

Von Liebe träumtest du, von Freiheit, Seligkeit,...

Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht,
Dein Herz die Stimme der Natur vernahm.

Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht,
Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht...

Helft mir, oh Wolken
Oh Wolken, steht mir bei
Laßt mir kein Leid geschehen
Laßt mich gesund und unbesiegbar sein.

Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht,
Weil in dem Seufzerlaut der Bäume und im Klagen der Nacht...


Ophelia

On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping,
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils.
In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.

For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.

The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath
Her great veils rising and falling with the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder,
The rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow.

The ruffled water-lilies are sighing around her;
At times she rouses, in a slumbering alder,
Some nest from which escapes a small rustle of wings;
A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars.

II

O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes child, you died, carried off by a river!
It was the winds descending from the great mountains of Norway
That spoke to you in low voices of better freedom.

It was a breath of wind, that, twisting your great hair,
Brought strange rumors to your dreaming mind;
It was your heart listening to the song of nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights.

It was the voice of mad seas, the great roar,
That shattered your child's heart, too human and too soft;
It was a handsome pale knight, a poor madman
Who one April morning sat mute at your knees!

Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, oh poor crazed girl!
You melted to him as snow does to a fire;
Your great visions strangled your words
And fearful infinity terrified your blue eye.

III

And the poet says that by starlight
You come seeking, in the night, the flowers that you picked
And that he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils
White Ophelia floating, like a great lily.


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Volume 2: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13