Die schöne Müllerin (Part 7)

"Ich möcht mir ziehen einen jungen Star"
I've been neglecting my posting on Die schöne Müllerin, so before I do anything else I think I should do another post in this series.

The last time we left we had just finished listening to the miller implore his brooklet if the milleress loved him or not. With no answer forthcoming, the miller grows more impatient and frustrated by the hour. This leads us to the next poem in the cycle–––"Ungeduld."

[Note: Blogger is having issues with formatting this in two columns, so I decided to insert my translation between each stanza this time around.]

Ich schnitt es gern in alle Rinden ein,
Ich grüb es gern in jeden Kieselstein,
Ich möcht es sä'n auf jedes frische Beet
Mit Kressensamen, der es schnell verrät,
Auf jeden weißen Zettel möcht ich's schreiben:
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.

I'd gladly carve it into every bark,
I'd gladly inscribe it on every pebble
I'd sow it in every flowerbed              
with peppergrass seeds that'd quickly betray,
On every white note I'd like to write:
My heart is yours, and shall be forevermore.

Ich möcht mir ziehen einen jungen Star,
Bis daß er spräch die Worte rein und klar,
Bis er sie spräch mit meines Mundes Klang,
Mit meines Herzens vollem, heißen Drang;
Dann säng er hell durch ihre Fensterscheiben:
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.

I'd like to tug along a young star,
until it'd say the words clean and clear,
until he'd speak with the sound of my mouth,
with the the full, warm compulsion of my heart.
Then he'd sing brightly through her windows:
My heart is yours, and shall be forevermore.

Den Morgenwinden möcht ich's hauchen ein,
Ich möcht es säuseln durch den regen Hain;
Oh, leuchtet' es aus jedem Blumenstern!
Trüg es der Duft zu ihr von nah und fern!
Ihr Wogen, könnt ihr nichts als Räder treiben?
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.

I'd like to vitalized the morning wind,
I'd like to whisper it through the brisk meadow,
Oh! let it shine from every flower-star!
Carry the scent to her from near and far!
You waves, is moving wheels all you can do?
My heart is yours, and shall be forevermore.

Ich meint, es müßt in meinen Augen stehn,
Auf meinen Wangen müßt man's brennen sehn,
Zu lesen wär's auf meinem stummen Mund,
Ein jeder Atemzug gäb's laut ihr kund,
Und sie merkt nichts von all dem bangen Treiben:
Dein ist mein Herz und soll es ewig bleiben.

I thought it surely must be in my eyes,
and that one could see my burning cheeks;
that one could read it one my silent mouth,
and that breath made it loudly known;
Yet she didn't notice any of my concerned deeds:
My heart is yours, and shall be forevermore.

I'm not sure there's much I can comment on with this poem. It tends to speak for itself. Our miller is desperately in love, and will do anything to show it. He cries out to nature to be his emissaries to herald his love and laments that he can't seem to do anything to grab the attention of the milleress.

The use of the word "Drang" in the second stanza is interesting, as it hearkens back to the proto-Romantic Sturm und Drang movement of the 18th century. Like the literary characters that emerge from this period, our miller is yearning to for emotional catharsis. He'll do anything to release the pent up angst and impatience (hence the name of the poem), even the impossible like lassoing a star or having the wind carry his cry to his lover.

Here now is Schubert's rendition.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

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