CD in a gatefold sleeve. Comes with a page booklet containing the lyrics, plus explanations in English of the songs with German lyrics. The download also includes a PDF booklet containing the album lyrics, plus explanations in English of the songs with German lyrics. Purchasable with gift card.
Weckt Nicht Die Liebe Das Biest Trostlied Short And Sweet Only The Living Can Love It is a collection of stories and reflections about the causes and consequences of human destructivity — sometimes poetic, sometimes political — with a silent hope that in the end, perhaps, love is what deep down holds the world together.
The album was mainly recorded in Berlin, and also features several international guest artists who recorded their contributions in the USA, France, Australia, England and Sweden. Sonja Kessner - vocals, cello. Valter Kinbom - percussion 1 , flute. Sam Walker - percussion 1, 5. Cordula Hanns - vocals 2 , cello. Stephan Hoppe - piano. Joseph Daley - tuba. Hannah Moulette - vocals 4. Glenn Richards - spoken word 6. James Williamson - spoken word 7. James Cruickshank - harmonium. Marjolaine Karlin - spoken word 7. If ever my heart thaws again, her image too will melt away. Der Lindenbaum.
Die kalten Winde bliesen mir grad ins Angesicht; der Hut flog mir vom Kopfe, ich wendete mich nicht. By the well at the town gate there stands a lime tree; in its shadow I have dreamed full many a sweet dream.
On its bark I have carved full many a loving word. In joy and sorrow it drew me to it again and again. Just now my journey took me past it at dead of night, and even in the darkness I had to close my eyes.
The chill winds blew straight in my face: my hat flew off my head. I did not turn back. Many a tear from my eyes has dropped into the snow. Its chilly flakes suck thirstily up my burning woe. When the grass begins to shoot, a warm breeze will blow there, and the ice will melt in torrents and the snow will dissolve. Snow, you know of my longing: say, which way will you flow?
Just follow my tears: their stream will soon carry you away. You will course the town with them, in and out of cheerful streets. Auf dem Flusse. Mein Herz, in diesem Bache erkennst du nun dein Bild? You who so merrily babbled, clear, wild stream, how silent you have become: you give no greeting as we part. With hard, stiff hoar you have covered yourself; you lie cold and motionless, stretched out in the sand.
On your crust I carve with a sharp stone the name of my beloved and the hour and the day. The day I first met her, the day I went away; round name and figures winds a broken ring. In this brook, my heart, do you now recognize your likeness? Under its crust is there a roaring torrent too?
It is burning hot under both my feet, though I am walking on ice and snow; I would rather not draw breath again until the towers are out of sight. I bruised myself on every stone, so did I hurry out of the town. The crows threw snowballs and hailstones onto my hat from every roof.
How otherwise did you welcome me, you town of inconstancy! At your bright windows sang the lark vying with the nightingale. The plump lime trees were in bloom, the clear streams babbled brightly, and alas, two girlish eyes were glowing! Whenever that day comes to mind, I long to look back once more, long to stumble back again and stand in silence outside her house. How I shall find my way out does not weigh heavily on my mind. I am used to going astray: every path leads to its destination. Every stream will reach the sea; every sorrow too its grave. I only notice now how tired I am, as I lie down to rest.
Walking kept my spirits up along an inhospitable road. My feet did not ask for rest— it was too cold to stand still; my back felt no burden, the storm helped to blow me along. But my limbs will not take their ease, their wounds are burning so. You too, my heart, in struggle and storm so wild and so untamed, now in the stillness feel the serpent within rear up with its searing sting. I dreamed of bright flowers such as blossom in May; I dreamed of green meadows and the calling of birds. And when the cocks crew, my eyes opened; it was cold and dark, on the roof the ravens croaked.
But on the window panes who had been painting leaves? Well may you laugh at the dreamer who saw flowers in winter. I dreamed of love for love, of a fair maiden, of hearts and kisses, of bliss and ecstasy. And when the cocks crew my heart opened: now all alone I sit here and ponder my dream. I close my eyes again: my heart still beats as warmly. When will you leaves at the window be green? When will I hold my darling in my arms? Like a mournful cloud passing through clear sky when through the fir tops a gentle breeze blows, so I wend my way onward with halting step through bright, happy life lonely and ungreeted.
Pity the air is so calm, pity the world is so bright! When the storms still howled I was not so miserable.
Die Post. Up from the street a posthorn blows. What is it that makes you beat so fast, my heart? The post-coach brings you no letter; then why do you throb so strangely, my heart?
Ah yes, the post comes from the town where I had a best beloved, my heart! Do you just want to peep across and ask how things are going there, my heart? Der greise Kopf. Vom Abendrot zum Morgenlicht ward mancher Kopf zum Greise. There was a white coat of frost spread over my hair. It made me think I was already old, which made me very glad. But soon it thawed away and my hair is black again. Now my youthfulness appals me: how far still to the funeral bier!
Between dusk and dawn many a head has turned white. Who believes it? Mine has not this whole journey through! Meinst wohl, bald als Beute hier Meinen Leib zu fassen? A crow was with me coming out of town. Back and forth till now it has flown above my head. Crow, curious creature, will you not forsake me? Have you prey in mind here soon, when you seize my body? Well, there is not far to go for my stick and me. Crow, let me at last behold fidelity to the grave!
Letzte Hoffnung. Here and there on trees a colored leaf or so is seen. And I stand in front of the trees often, sunk in thought. I fall to the ground myself, weep at the tomb of my hopes. Im Dorfe. Dogs are barking, their chains are rattling.
People are asleep in their beds. They dream of plenty that they have not, find both good and evil to refresh them: and next morning it has all vanished. But then, they have enjoyed their share and hope was left over will still be found on their pillows. Bark me away, you watchdogs! Let me not rest in these hours of slumber!
I am done with all dreaming; why linger among those asleep? Wie hat der Sturm zerrissen des Himmels graues Kleid!
Die Wolkenfetzen flattern umher im matten Streit. How the storm has torn the grey mantle of heaven! The wisps of cloud flutter about, jostling feebly.
And tongues of red fire flicker among them. I reckon this a morning to match my frame of mind! My heart sees in the sky its own painted portrait.