An baches ranft

no. 3 from Webern, 4 Lieder, op. 3 (1908-09)

Poem by Stefan George
English translation (c)2001 by Joe Monzo
An baches ranft
Die einzigen frühen
Die hasel blühen.
Ein vogel pfeift
In kühler au.
Ein leuchten streift
Erwärmt uns sanft
Und zuckt und bleicht.
Das feld ist brach
Der baum noch grau...
Blumen streut vielleicht
Der lenz uns nach. 		At the brook's edge
Solitary and early
The hazel blooms.
A bird whistles
in the cool meadow.
A ray of light strokes
Warms us softly
And twitches and fades.
The field is fallow
The tree still grey...
Perhaps flowers will scatter
After us by the Spring.

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