Hugo Wolf - "An eine Äolsharfe" Fischer-Dieskau, Barenboim

"The strains of the Aeolian harp and the woodthrush are the truest and loftiest preachers that I know left on this earth." --- Henry David Thoreau


An aeolian harp, or wind harp, consists of a wooden or metal frame holding several strings with varying lengths. The wind blows through and the strings vibrate. Mörike makes several references to wind harps in his letters.

The boy in Mörike's poem is his younger brother August, who died suddenly of a stroke in 1824, aged 17. There were wind harps on the Emichsburg near which August was buried.

The poem conveys a haunting picture of love and mourning.


An eine Äolsharfe

Angelehnt an die Efeuwand
Dieser alten Terrasse,
Du, einer luftgebor'nen Muse
Geheimnisvolles Saitenspiel,
Fang' an,
Fange wieder an
Deine melodische Klage!

Ihr kommet, Winde, fern herüber,
Ach! von des Knaben,
Der mir so lieb war,
Frisch grünendem Hügel.
Und Frühlingsblüten unterweges streifend,
Übersättigt mit Wohlgerüchen,
Wie süß, bedrängt ihr dies Herz!
Und säuselt her in die Saiten,
Angezogen von wohllautender Wehmut,
Wachsend im Zug meiner Sehnsucht,
Und hinsterbend wieder.

Aber auf einmal,
Wieder Wind heftiger herstößt,
Ein holder Schrei der Harfe
Wiederholt, mir zu süßem Erschrecken
Meiner Seele plötzliche Regung,
Und hier, die volle Rose streut, geschüttelt,
All ihre Blätter vor meine Füße!

Eduard Mörike (1804-1875)



To an Aeolian Harp

Leaning up against the ivy wall
Of this old terrace,
You, muse born of air,
Mysterious instrument,
Begin,
And again begin,
Your melodious lament!

Winds, you come from far away,
Ah! from the boy
That I loved so well,
From his fresh green hill.
And sweeping over spring blossoms as you pass,
Drenched with fragrance,
How sweetly you press at my heart!
And whisper here among the strings,
Drawn by harmonious melancholy,
Rising in the pull of my longing,
And dying away again.

But all at once,
As the wind heaves a heavier sigh,
A tender cry from the harp
Repeats, sweetly surprising me,
The sudden stirring of my soul,
And here, the full rose shakes and scatters
All its petals at my feet!



Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (baritone)
Daniel Barenboim (piano)