Begleiter    

Ich trat in ihr geheimes Quartier ein

und bat sie: Nehmt mich doch mit!

Will Detektiv so wie ihr sein!

Doch sie war’n schon – zu dritt.

Sie fuhr’n auf sonnigen Wegen –

bald war'n sie nicht mehr zu seh'n –

dem Abenteuer entgegen;

Ich blieb im Schatten steh'n.


Ich strich durch waldige Lande,

trug wie ein Räuber mein Kleid.

So traf ich Ronja samt Bande,

doch sie war’n schon – zu zweit.

Sie ritten winkend von dannen,

ich sah das Traumpaar im Glück

verschwinden zwischen den Tannen –

Mich hielt die Lichtung zurück.


Ich bin den Rhein hochgefahren,

sah über schroffem Gestein

die Frau mit goldenen Haaren,

und sie war – ganz allein.

Ich ließ mein Schiff zu ihr treiben,

blieb von den Riffen verschont.

Doch einsam wollte sie bleiben,

so war sie’s lang schon gewohnt.


Der Horizont wurde weiter:

Ich lief durch sengenden Sand,

sah meinen stillen Begleiter,

den ich zuvor nicht erkannt.

Mit ihm teil' ich meine Schuhe;

wir geh'n für immer vereint.

Er steht zu dem, was ich tue,

sofern die Sonne scheint.




(Holger Saarmann)
© by Holger Saarmann, April 2006

Companion

I entered their secret quarter
and asked them: Let me join you, will you?
I want to be a detective like you!
But they were already three together.

On sunny roads, they cycled away –

soon, I could no longer see them –

right into a world of adventure;

I remained standing in the shades.


I went through lands of forest,

dressed like a robber.

That's how I met Ronja and gang,

but they were already two together.

Waving, they rode away,

I saw the happy pair

vanish between the firs – 

held back by the glade.


I went up the River Rhine,

saw on top of a steep rock

the girl with the golden hair,

and she was all by herself.

I let my boat drift towards her,

remained unharmed by the riffs.

But she prefered to stay single,

the way she was used to.


The horizon widened:

I walked through scorching sand

and saw my silent companion

whom I had not noticed before.

With him, I share my shoes,

united forever, we will walk.

He stands by the things I do,

as long as the sun will shine.




(Holger Saarmann)

© by Holger Saarmann, 2006

>> CD "So küsste mich meine Friseuse"

Lore Lay  

Ich weiß nicht was soll es bedeuten,
Daß ich so traurig bin;
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.

Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Und ruhig fließt der Rhein;
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
Im Abendsonnenschein.

Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
Dort oben wunderbar;
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar.

Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme
Und singt ein Lied dabei;
Das hat eine wundersame,
Gewaltige Melodei.

Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh;
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,
Er schaut nur hinauf in die Höh.

Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
Die Lore-Ley getan.


(M: Friedrich Silcher, 1837/ 

T: Heinrich Heine, aus dem Zyklus "Heimkehr", 1824)

Lore Lay (1)

I wonder why I am so weary,
What´s making me so depressed,
It must be the tale old and dreary,
That´s keeping my mind quite obsessed.

The air is cool, night is sinking,
And quietly´s  flowing the Rhine,
The tops of the mountains are blinking,
In purple-red sun-setting shine.

There´s sitting high up in the light
A maiden so beautiful, fair
Her jewels are glistening bright
She combs her gold shimmering hair.

Her comb is of most precious gold,
She´s combing and singing so sweet
Bewitching young fishers and old
Their hearts start to quiver and beat.

There´s man in his boat on the river,
He cannot but listen and stare,
A longing is making him shiver,
Look out, the rock´s ledge, oh beware!

I fear there´s a crash, the boat sinking,
The man will be swallowed and gone,
And that with melodious singing
The Loreley will have done.


(Unknown Translator)

Lore Lee (2)

I know not whence it rises ...




Translation printed as Sheet Music in USA, 1831.

Not yet available.

Youthful Pilgrims

O, come, ye youthful pilgrims,

Pursue your heavenly wayl

March on, march on to  glory,

From earth and sin away.

O yes, we all are pilgrims

To Canaan's happy shore

We're marching home to Zion,

To dwell forevermore.

Temptation may delay you,

And evil foes as sail,

But trusting in the Saving,

We shall at length prevail.

O yes, we all are pilgrims ...

The morning will be joyful,

When we approach the stream,

When bright beyond the river

A heavenly light shall beam

O yes, we all are pilgrims ...

We're marching home to Zion,

No foe may us withstand,

They conquer, who with ardor

Press to the promised land.

O yes, we all are pilgrims ...


(Trad. USA, in: "The Sabbath School Trumpet" 1854

Dort der Hinweis: "Words from the 'Cherub', by permission")

Far out on the desolate Billow

Far out on the desolate billow

The sailor sails the sea,

Alone with the night and the tempest,

Where countless dangers be;

Yet never alone is the Christian,

Who lives by faith and prayer;

For God is a Friend unfailing,

And God is everywhere.

Far down in the earth’s dark bosom

The miner mines the ore;

Death lurks in the dark behind him,

And hides in the rock before.

Yet never alone is the Christian,

Who lives by faith and prayer;

For God is a Friend unfailing,

And God is everywhere.

Forth into the dreadful battle

The steadfast soldier goes;

No friend, when he lies adying,

His eyes to kiss and close.

Yet never alone is the Christian,

Who lives by faith and prayer;

For God is a Friend unfailing,

And God is everywhere.

Lord, grant as we sail life’s ocean,

Or delve in its mines of woe,

Or fight in its terrible conflict,

This comfort all to know,

That never alone is the Christian,

Who lives by faith and prayer;

For God is a Friend unfailing,

And God is everywhere.


(Trad. USA, 1889)