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Timothy Hoekman
Timothy Hoekman Music
Drei Galgenlieder (Three Gallows Songs)
Three poems from Christian Morgenstern’s poetry collection entitled Galgenlieder (Gallows Songs)—whimsical, humorous poems with sometimes serious undertones.
SATB chorus, piano
Morgenstern’s Galgenlieder collection was published in 1905 in Berlin. “Bim, Bam, Bum” has bell tones flying melismatically through the night sky like birds. “Der Rabe Ralf” (Ralph the Raven) is a quirky poem with a quirky musical setting that contrasts legato and staccato singing. The poem features some political satire—the pool of red that the raven dies in can be thought of as not just blood but also communism. Because the raven has long been regarded as a bird of death, the German word Rabenstein (literally “raven stone”) can be translated as gallows, thus tying the poem to the cycle’s title. “Der Werwolf” is a thoroughly comic spoof of German grammar. This particular werewolf seems to be a fan of ragtime music.
Text
1. Bim, Bam, Bum
Ein Glockenton fliegt durch die Nacht,
als hätt’ er Vogelflügel,
er fliegt in römischer Kirchentracht
wohl über Tal und Hügel.
Er sucht die Glockentönin BIM,
die ihm vorausgeflogen;
d.h. die Sache ist sehr schlimm,
sie hat ihn nämlich betrogen.
“O komm,” so ruft er, “komm, dein BAM
erwartet dich voll Schmerzen.
Komm wieder, BIM, geliebtes Lamm,
dein BAM liebt dich von Herzen!”
Doch BIM, daß ihr’s nur alle wißt,
hat sich dem BUM ergeben;
der ist zwar auch ein guter Christ,
allein das ist es eben.
Der BAM fliegt weiter durch die Nacht
wohl über Wald und Lichtung.
Doch, ach, er fliegt umsonst! Das macht,
er fliegt in falscher Richtung.
-Christian Morgenstern
TRANSLATION:
A bell tone flies through the night
as if he had the wings of a bird;
he flies in Roman vestments
over hill and valley.
He is looking for the bell tone BIM,
who flew ahead of him,
which means that things are very grim,
since she has actually betrayed him.
“O come,” he calls, “come, your BAM
awaits you full of anguish.
Come back, BIM, beloved lamb,
your BAM loves you with all his heart!”
But BIM—so that you all may know—
has surrendered herself to BUM,
who is also a good Christian,
and that’s just the way it is.
BAM flies on through the night
over forest and clearing.
But, alas, he flies in vain
since he is flying in the wrong direction!
-Translation by Timothy Hoekman
2. Der Rabe Ralf
Der Rabe Ralf
will will hu hu
dem niemand half
still still du du
half sich allein
am Rabenstein
will will still still
hu hu
Die Nebelfrau
will will hu hu
nimmt’s nicht genau
still still du du
sie sagt nimm nimm
‘s ist nicht so schlimm
will will still still
hu hu
Doch als ein Jahr
will will hu hu
vergangen war
still still du du
da lag im Rot
der Rabe tot
will will still still
du du
-Christian Morgenstern
TRANSLATION:
Ralf the raven
want want oh woe
whom nobody helped
quiet quiet you you
helped himself
at the gallows
want want quiet quiet
oh woe
The mist woman
want want oh woe
is not so particular
quiet quiet you you
she says take take
it’s not so bad
want want quiet quiet
oh woe
But when a year
want want oh woe
had passed by
quiet quiet you you
there lay in redness
the raven dead
want want quiet quiet
you you
-Translation by Timothy Hoekman
3. Der Werwolf
Ein Werwolf eines Nachts entwich
von Weib und Kind und sich begab
an eines Dorfschullehrers Grab
und bat ihn: »Bitte, beuge mich!«
Der Dorfschulmeister stieg hinauf
auf seines Blechschilds Messingknauf
und sprach zum Wolf, der seine Pfoten
geduldig kreuzte vor dem Toten:
»Der Werwolf«, sprach der gute Mann,
»des Weswolfs, Genitiv sodann,
dem Wemwolf, Dativ, wie man’s nennt,
den Wenwolf, — damit hat’s ein End.«
Dem Werwolf schmeichelten die Fälle,
er rollte seine Augenbälle.
»Indessen«, bat er, »füge doch
zur Einzahl auch die Mehrzahl noch!«
Der Dorfschulmeister aber mußte
gestehn, dass er von ihr nichts wußte.
Zwar Wölfe gäb’s in grosser Schar,
doch »Wer« gäb’s nur im Singular.
Der Wolf erhob sich tränenblind—
er hatte ja doch Weib und Kind!!
Doch da er kein Gelehrter eben,
so schied er dankend und ergeben.
-Christian Morgenstern
TRANSLATION:
One night a werewolf left
his wife and child and made his way
to a village schoolteacher’s grave
and asked him: “Please conjugate me!”
The school master climbed up
on the brass knob of his nameplate
and spoke to the wolf, who patiently
crossed his paws in front of the dead man:
“Der Werwolf,” said the good man,
“des Weswolfs, genitive then,
dem Wemwolf, dative, as it’s called,
den Wenwolf—that’s the end of it.”
The werewolf was flattered by the cases;
he rolled his eyes.
“All right, then,” he requested, “now add
the plural to the singular!”
The schoolteacher, however, had
to confess that he knew nothing of that.
Certainly there are wolves in large packs,
but “Wer” exists only in the singular.
The wolf got up, blinded by tears—
after all, he had a wife and child!!
But since he was no scholar,
he departed, thankful and resigned.
-Translation by Timothy Hoekman
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