Schubert composed the song "Der Wanderer“ (The Wanderer) in 1816, when he was about 19 years old. That same year, Beethoven had contracted a devastating illness which would persist well into the next year, when he began writing his 9th Symphony, a project that took 8 years to complete.
Der Wanderer
Ich komme vom Gebirge her,
Es dampft das Tal, es braust das Meer.
Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,
Und immer fragt der Seufzer: wo?
Die Sonne dünkt mich hier so kalt,
Die Blüte welk, das Leben alt,
Und was sie reden, leerer Schall,
Ich bin ein Fremdling überall.
Wo bist du, mein geliebtes Land?
Gesucht, geahnt und nie gekannt!
Das Land, das Land, so hoffnungsgrün,
Das Land, wo meine Rosen blühn,
Wo meine Freunde wandeln gehn,
Wo meine Toten auferstehn,
Das Land, das meine Sprache spricht,
O Land, wo bist du?
Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,
Und immer fragt der Seufzer: wo?
Im Geisterhauch tönt’s mir zurück:
„Dort, wo du nicht bist, dort ist das Glück!“
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The Wanderer
I come down from the mountains
The valley is steaming, the sea roars.
I wander silent, little glad,
And always my sigh demands: where?
The sun here seems so cold,
The flowers faded, life old,
And what they say sounds hollow;
I am a stranger everywhere.
Where are you, my beloved land?
Sought for, dreamed of, and never known!
That land so green with hope,
That land where my roses bloom,
Where my friends walkl,
Where my dead are resurrected,
The land where my language is spoken,
Oh, land, where are you?
I wander silent, little glad,
And always my sigh demands: where?
A ghostly whisper replies,
“There, where you are not, there is happiness!"
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John Scialdone published this page in Daily Beethoven 2021-07-13 13:52:44 -0400