Gute Nacht!

Robert Franz (1815–1862)

      
             
Andante. 

  
        

                 
Die Höh’n und Wäl- der schon stei gen im mer

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       
                  
sempre 

                

           
                    
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5

  
       
          
tie- fer in’s A bend gold, ein Vög- lein fragt in den Zwei gen: ob es

         
           
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                 

               

       
     
          
       
9

   
        

    
                
Lieb- chen grü-
ßen soll’, ob es Lieb- chen grü- ßen soll’? O Vög- lein, du hast dich be-

   
     
      
            
    
              
  

by Mutopia-2006/12/18-585
Scritto con MuseScore, un software libero e gratuito: http://musescore.org/it
        
2

      
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14

      
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                   
tro- gen, sie woh- net nicht mehr im Tal; schwing’ auf dich zum Him- mels-

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                  
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               

 
            
18   dim.

  
     
           
bo gen, grüß’ sie dro- ben zum letz- ten Mal.

         
             
     
      
 

   
dim.

     
   

       
Hills and forests already sink
deeper and deeper in the evening gold,
a little bird asks from its tree branch:
Do I have to greet your beloved?
O bird, you have deceived yourself:
she no longer lives in this valley,
take the wing and go up to the sky,
send my love up there one last time.
Colline e foreste già sprofondano
sempre più in profondità nell'oro della sera,
un uccellino chiede dal suo ramo d'albero:
Devo salutare la tua amata?
O uccellino, ti sei ingannato:
lei non vive più in questa valle,
spiega le ali e sali verso il cielo,
portale il mio amore lassù un'ultima volta.

by Mutopia-2006/12/18-585