Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)

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Any display of the Internorm-Homepage within an 'external' frame is strictly prohibited. Why did you smite our lovers? Zu euch, ihr Holden, ja wehrten sie mir den Weg. They barred my way to you, my fair ones. Du schlugest unsre Gespielen! Wer spielt nun mit uns? You smote our playmates! Who now will play with us? The maidens' surprise has changed to gaiety and now break into merry laughter. Und willst du uns nicht schelten, wir werden dir's entgelten: Wir spielen nicht um Gold, wir spielen um Minnes Sold: willst auf Trost du uns sinnen, sollst den du uns abgewinnen! Then do not stay afar!

And if you do not chide us, we will repay you: we do not play for gold, we play for love's dues. If you bring us consolation you shall win it from us! The maidens of the first Group and first Chorus return wholly dressed in flowers, looking like flowers themselves, and at once rush upon Parsifal. They secretly adorned themselves. Holder Knabe! I'll be your flower! All my loving care is for your delight and bliss!

Seid ihr denn Blumen?

Are you flowers then? Nun sei uns freund und hold, nicht karge den Blumen den Sold! Kannst du uns nicht lieben und minnen, wir welken und sterben dahinnen.

We grow here in summer and sunlight to bloom for your delight. Now be friendly and kind, do not grudge the flowers their due! If you cannot love and cherish us, we shall wither and perish. Would you have the flowers woo the butterfly?

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Nein, uns! Auch mir! Ihr fangt mich nicht! Er will fliehen, als er aus einem Blumenhage Kundrys Stimme vernimmt und betroffen still steht. You shall not catch me! He makes to escape, but on hearing Kundry's voice pauses in surprise.


The maidens are terror-struck and shrink back at once from Parsifal. Once in a dream my mother called me that. Geht heim, pfleget der Wunden: einsam erharrt euch mancher Held. Bliss and surpassing delight await you. You wantoning children, let him be; flowers soon to wither, with you he is not destined to play. Go home, tend the wounded; many a lonely hero awaits you. O wehe! O Wehe der Pein! Leb' wohl! Du Holder, du Stolzer, du - Tor!

Must we not see you? Oh what sorrow! We would gladly be parted from all men, to be with you alone.

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Farewell, farewell! You charming, fair boy, you fool! With this last, the maidens disappear laughing into the castle. He looks round timidly to the side from which the voice came. There now appears, through an opening in the banks of flowers, a young woman of great beauty Kundry, completely transformed - on a couch of flowers, wearing a light, fantastic, veil-like robe of Arabian style. Riefest du mich Namenlosen? Thus when he fell in Araby your father Gamuret called his son, to whom, still in his mother's womb, he gave his dying greeting with this name.

I waited for you here to tell you this: what drew you here, if not the wish to know? Do you too bloom in this bank of flowers?


Fern fern ist meine Heimat. Nur Sorgen war sie, ach! Und Bangen: nie sollte Kunde zu dir hergelangen. Doch, ihr Wehe du nicht vernahmst, nicht ihrer Schmerzen Toben, als endlich du nicht wieder kamst, und deine Spur verstoben. Far, far away, is my home. I tarried here only that you might find me. I came from afar, where I have seen much. I saw the child on its mother's breast, its first lisping still laughs in my ear; though sad at heart, how Heart's Sorrow also laughed, that in her grief the apple of her eye should cry for joy!

She fondly lulled to sleep with caresses the babe cradled gently on soft moss; with anxious care a mother's yearning guarded its sleep, and the hot dew of a mother's tears woke it at morn. She was all mourning, child of sorrow, for your father's love and death. To shield you from like peril she deemed it her highest duty's task. She strove to hide and shelter you safe afar from weapons and from men's strife and fury.

Stolen Child

She was all concern and foreboding lest you should ever acquire knowledge. Do you not still hear her cry of distress when you roamed late and far? How great was her joy and laughter when she sought and found you again; when her arms clapsed you tight did you perhaps fear her kisses? But you did not consider her woe, her desperate grief, when you finally did not return and left no trace behind! She waited night and day till her laments grew faint, grief consumed her pain and she craved for death's release: her sorrow broke her heart, and Heart's Sorrow died.

Was tat ich? Wo war ich? Dein Sohn, dein Sohn musste dich morden?

O Tor! Wo irrtest du hin, ihrer vergessend, deiner, deiner vergessend? Traute, teuerste Mutter! What have I done? Where was I? Sweet, dear mother! Your son, your son it was who killed you! Blind, blundering fool, where did you wander, forgetting her forgetting yourself too? O dearest, beloved mother! KUNDRY: If grief were still a stranger to you, the sweetness of consolation would never comfort your heart; now assuage that distress, that woe for which you grieve, in the solace which love offers you.

Was alles vergass ich wohl noch? Wes war ich je noch eingedenk? Nur dumpfe Torheit lebt in mir! What else have I forgotten?

Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)
Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition) Der Feind in meiner Brust (German Edition)

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