Es geht ein Wehen, Op. 62, No. 6 (Johannes Brahms)

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  • (Posted 2019-09-28)  CPDL #55457:  ExtMuse3.png Icon_pdf_globe.gif
Editor: Jes Wagner (submitted 2019-09-28).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 256 kB   Copyright: CC BY NC ND
Edition notes:
  • (Posted 2011-05-06)  CPDL #23480:       
Editor: Robert Urmann (submitted 2011-05-06).   Score information: Executive, 3 pages, 156 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: see Sieben Lieder, Op. 62 for a complete edition.
  • (Posted 2000-02-25)  CPDL #00707:        (Finale 2004)
Editor: Rafael Ornes (submitted 2000-02-25).   Score information: Letter, 3 pages, 68 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:
Error.gif Possible error(s) identified. Error summary: wrong notes in the Alto-part in bar 1-2, corrected in Finale file

General Information

Title: Es geht ein Wehen, Op. 62, No. 6 [I hear a sighing]
Work: Sieben Lieder, Op. 62 [Seven Songs]
Composer: Johannes Brahms

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: SecularPartsongLied

Language: German
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1874 Berlin: Simrock
  2nd published: 1915 in Volksliederbuch für gemischten Chor, no. 448
  3rd published: 1926 Sämtliche Werke, Volume 21


External websites:

  • Scanned score of the first print from Brahms Institute at the University of Music Lübeck (Germany)

Original text and translations

German.png German text

Es geht ein Wehen durch den Wald,
die Windsbraut hör’ ich singen.
Sie singt von einem Buhlen gut,
und bis sie dem in Armen ruht,
muß sie noch weit in bangem Mut
sich durch die Lande schwingen.

Der Sang, der klingt so schauerlich,
der klingt so wild, so trübe;
das heiße Sehnen ist erwacht:
mein Schatz, zu tausend gute Nacht!
Es kommt der Tag, eh du’s gedacht,
der eint getreue Liebe!


English.png English translation

I hear a sighing thro’ the wood,
the tempest bride is singing;
her song is of her lover true,
for him the world she ranges trough,
the broken boughs her way bestrew,
while she to him is winging.

How wild and weary is her song,
into my soul ’thas darted;
it wakes the pangs I fain would quell,
the hour when last we spoke Farewell!
The bitter grief that then befell,
when, o my love, we parted.