The German translation of a poem by Michelangelo which Hugo Wold set to music. The best recording is a historical recording by the great Ukrainian bass, Alexander Kipnis. The piano part is as important as the vocal part. It is available on historical archive recordings.
Alles endet, was entstehet.
Alles, alles rings vergehet,
Denn die Zeit flieht, und die Sonne
Sieht, daß alles rings vergehet,
Denken, Reden, Schmerz, und Wonne;
Und die wir zu Enkeln hatten
Schwanden wie bei Tag die Schatten,
Wie ein Dunst im Windeshauch.
Menschen waren wir ja auch,
Froh und traurig, so wie ihr,
Und nun sind wir leblos hier,
Sind nur Erde, wie ihr sehet.
Alles ended, was entstehet.
Alles, alles rings vergehet.
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Here is my translation and Michelangelo's original..
This is a translation of one of many poems written by the great Italian sculptor and painter, Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564).
Chiunche nasce a morte arriva
All who are born arrive at death
with the passing of time: and the sun
leaves no thing alive.
Gone pleasure and pain
skills, words
and our ancient lineages–
these are as shadows to sun – smoke to wind.
We were as you were, men
happy and sad, like you,
and now, as you see,
we are in the earth, deprived of life.
we are in the earth, All beings arrive at death.
Here, where once our eyes were,
with radiance in each socket;
these now are empty, horrid and black,
born away by time itself.
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Michelangelo’s original poem rhymes but because the poem is so stark and strong I decided not to sacrifice meaning to rhyme. The meter and rhyme are both important and so here is the original text, written some time before 1524 when Michelangelo was influenced by Savonarola.
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Chiunche nasce a morte arriva
nel fuggir del tempo; e ‘l sole
niuna cosa lascia viva.
Manca il dolce e quel che dole
e gl’ingegni e le parole;
e le nostre antiche prole
al sole ombre, al vento un fummo.
Come voi uomini fummo,
lieti e tristi, come siete;
e or siàn, come vedete,
terra al sol, di vita priva.
terra al sol,Ogni cosa a morte arriva.
Già fur gli occhi nostri interi
con la luce in ogni speco;
or son voti, orrendi e neri,
e ciò porta il tempo seco.
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