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Das Klagende Lied – Der Spielmann (The Minstrel)

Listening Guide

The Work

II. Der Spielmann

Beim Weidenbaum, im kühlen Tann,
da flattern die Dohlen und Raben,
da liegt ein blonder Rittersmann
unter Blättern und Blüten begraben.
Dort ist’s so lind und voll von Duft,
als ging ein Weinen durch die Luft!
O leide, weh! O Leide!

Ein Spielmann zog einst des Weges daher,
da sah er ein Knöchlein blitzen;
er hob es auf, als wär’s ein Rohr,
wollt’ sich eine Flöte draus schnitzen.
O Spielmann, lieber Spielmann mein,
Das wird ein seitsam Spielen sein!
O Leide, weh! O Leide!

Der Spielmann setzt die Flöte an
und läßt sie laut erklingen:
O Wunder, was nun da began,
welch seltsam traurig Singen!
Es klingt so traurig und doch so schön,
wer’s hört, der möcht’ vor Leid vergehn!
O Leide, Leide!

“Ach, Spielmann, lieber Spielmann mein!
Das muß ich dir nun klagen:
Um ein schönfarbig Blümelein
Hat mich mein Bruder erschlagen!
Im Walde bleicht mein junger Leib,
mein Bruder freit ein wonnig Weib!”
O Leide, Leide, weh!

Der Spielmann ziehet in die Welt’,
läßt’s überall erklingen.
Ach weh, ach weh, ihr lieben Leut’,
was soll denn euch mein Singen?
Hinauf muß ich zu des Königs Saal,
hinauf zu des Königs holdem Gemahl!
O Leide, weh, o Leide!

II. The Minstrel

By a willow tree, in a cool forest,
where jackdaws and ravens hover,
there lies a fair-headed knight
Buried under leaves and blossoms.
It is so calm and fragrant there,
as if weeping filled the air!
o sorrow, sorrow!

A minstrel once went that way,
he saw a bone gleaming there;
he picked it up, as if it were a reed
from which he might carve a flute.
o minstrel, dear minstrel,
that will be a strange sort of music!
o sorrow, woe, sorrow!

The minstrel put the flute to his mouth
and let it play loudly.
o wonder, at what now began!
What strange and mournful singing!
So mournful and yet so beautiful,
whoever heard it might die of sorrow!
o sorrow, sorrow!

“0 minstrel, dear minstrel,
I must tell you my grievous tale:
for a brightly coloured flower
my brother murdered me.
My young bones bleach in the forest,
My brother woos a fair bride.”
o sorrow, sorrow, woe!

The minstrel went far and wide,
elsewhere playing his music.
“Alas, alas, dear people,
what do you think of my song?
I must go to the royal castle,
to the king’s fair bride.”
o Sorrow, woe, sorrow.

Translation 1991 David Matthews
By permission of London Records

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