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Kantate zum Geburtstag des Sängers Michael Vogl (1819) D666

Kantate zum Geburtstag des Sängers Michael Vogl

Sänger, der von Herzen singet,
Und das Wort zum Herzen bringet,
Bei den Tönen deiner Lieder
Fällt’s wie sanfter Regen nieder,
Den der Herr vom Himmel schickt,
Und die dürre Flur erquickt!
Diese Berge sah’n dich blühen,
Hier begann dein Herz zu glühen,
Für die Künstlerhöh’n zu schlagen,
Die der Wahrheit Krone tragen;
Der Natur hast du entwandt,
Was die Kunst noch nicht verstand,
Da saht ihr Oresten scheiden,
Jakob mit der Last der Leiden,
Saht des Arztes Hoffnung tagen.
Menschlichkeit am Wasser wagen,
Saht, wie man sich Lienen sucht,
Bräute holt aus Berges schlucht.
In der Weihe deiner Würde
Stehst du, aller Sänger Zierde,
Auf Thaliens Tempel stufen,
Hörst un dich des Beifalls Rufen,
Doch ein Kranz, ein Sinngedicht,
Ist der Lohn des Künstlers nicht.
Wenn dich einst in greisen
Tagen Deines Lebens Mühen plagen,
Willst du nicht zur Heimat wandern?
Lass die Helden einem Andern,
Nur von Agamemnons Sohn
Trag die treue Brust davon.
Gott bewahr’ dein teures Leben,
Heiter, spiegel klar und eben,
Wie das Tönen deiner Kehle
Tief herauf aus volle Seele;
Schweigt dann einst der Sängers Wort,
Tönet doch die Seele fort.

Cantata for the Birthday of the singer Johann Michael Vogl

Singer, you who sing from the heart
and bring your words to the heart,
the sounds of your songs
are like gentle rainfall
which the Lord sends from heaven
to refresh the parched fields.
These mountains saw you blossom;
here your heart began to glow,
to beat for the heights of artistry
which bear the crown of truth;
you have wrested from Nature
what Art has not yet understood.
There you saw Orestes depart,
and Jacob with his burden of sorrow;
you saw the dawning of the physician’s hopes,
and human kindness at the water cart;
you saw them seeking out Lina
and taking brides from mountain gorges.
You stand in the consecration of your merits,
glory of all singers,
upon the steps of Thalia’s temple;
you hear around you shouts of applause,
yet a garland, an epigram,
is not the artist’s reward.
If in your old age
the cares of life trouble you,
will you not travel to your homeland?
Leave heroes to someone else;
from Agamemnon’s son
take only the faithful heart.
May God preserve your precious life,
happy, crystal, clear and even,
like the sounds from your throat,
welling from the depths of your soul;
if ever the singer’s voice falls silent,
then his soul will still sound forth.

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Franz Peter Schubert was an late Classical and early Romantic composer. He produced a vast oeuvre during his short life, composing more the 600 vocal works (largely Lieder), and well as several symphonies, operas, and a large body of piano music. He was uncommonly gifted from a young age, but appreciation of his music was limited during his lifetime. His work became more popular in the decades after his death, and was praised by 19th century composers, including Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, and Liszt.

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