Alas!
Coming, master! Here!
The shoes have been delivered to Mr Beckmesser
Was that you calling me just now?
He's acting as though I'm not here He must be angry or he'd speak
Master, can you forgive me How can an apprentice ever be perfect?
If you knew Lena as I do You'd forgive me for sure
She is so kind and gentle And often looks at me with such tenderness
If you beat me, she caresses away my pain With such sweet smiles
If I'm hungry, she brings me food And she's generally adorable
But yesterday, because the knight failed She took the basket away
That hurt, and then last night When I saw someone outside the house
Singing to her and howling like crazy
I gave him a good kicking
How could that cause such fuss? It did our love a power of good!
Lena's just explained everything And given me flowers for the festival
Master, please say something
If only I'd put away The sausage and the cake!
Do I see flowers and ribbons?
It looks charming and youthful How did they get in my house?
Master, today's a festival Everyone wears their Sunday best
Is there a wedding to celebrate?
Yes, would that the time had come For David to marry Lena!
It was stag night, methinks?
Stag night? Here comes trouble
Forgive and forget, Master Today we celebrate Midsummer's Day
Midsummer's Day?
Is he going deaf?
Do you know your song? Let me hear
My song? I think I know it well enough No thrashing, the master's in a good mood
On the banks of the Jordan stood St. John...
W... what?
Forgive the confusion The stag night has led me astray
Shit!
On the banks of the Jordan stood St. John To baptise all the people of the world
A woman came from a distant land From Nuremberg she'd walked
Carrying her son to the river bank For baptism and christening
But when they took their homeward way Got back to Nuremberg again
In German land it soon transpired That the person who on the river bank
Was named John of the Jordan On the River Pegnitz became Hans
Hans... Hans! Master!
Today is your name-day! How could I have forgotten?
Here! Take these flowers These ribbons... What else is there?
Look, Master, here's a delicious cake! What about some sausage?
Thanks, my boy, keep it for yourself Today you're coming to the meadow with me
Look your best with the flowers and ribbons As befits my fine herald
What about as your best man?
Master, oh Master You should marry again
So you'd like a mistress in the house?
I think it would look much grander
Who knows? Time brings wisdom
The time is right
So wisdom can't be far away?
That's right!
There are rumours about already
Surely you'll sing Beckmesser off the stage?
His airs and graces will count for nothing today
We'll see I've already thought about it as well
Now go, and don't disturb the knight Come back dressed smartly
He's been kind before, but never this kind
I can hardly remember what the strap's like
Madness! Madness!
Madness everywhere
Wherever I look In city and world chronicles
To seek out the reason Why, till they draw blood
People torment and flay each other In useless, foolish anger
No-one has reward Or thanks for it
Driven to flight He thinks he is hunting
Not hearing his own cry of pain
When he digs into his own flesh
He thinks it gives him pleasure
By what name does this go?
It's the same age-old madness
Without which nothing can happen Nothing at all
If it halts its course somewhere It's only to gain new strength in sleep
Suddenly it awakens Then see who can master it!
How at peace with its long-held customs Contented in deed and work
Nurtured in the heart of Germany Lies my beloved Nuremberg
But late one evening To prevent a mishap
Caused by youthful ardour A man knows not what to do
A cobbler in his shop Plucks at the thread of madness
How soon in alleys and streets It begins to rage
Men, women and children Attack each other, blind with rage
And if madness is to prevail It must now rain blows
With beatings, cuts and thrashings To quench the fire of anger
God knows, how did it come to this
A goblin must have been at work
A glow-worm couldn't find its mate
So trouble was stirred up
It was the scent of elder, Midsummer's Eve
But now it is Midsummer's Day!
Now let us see how Hans Sachs manages To carefully guide the madness
So as to perform a nobler work For if madness won't leave us in peace
Even here in Nuremberg Then let it be for such works
As seldom succeed in plain doings
And never so without a touch of madness
Good morning, dear knight
So you're up
You were awake until late Did you sleep?
A little, but deeply and well
So now you are in a better mood?
I had the most beautiful dream
That bodes well, tell me about it
I scarcely dare even to think of it
I fear to see it vanish from me
My friend, that's precisely the poet's task To note and interpret his dreams
Believe me, a man's truest illusions Are revealed to him by dreams
All poetry and versification Is nothing but true dream interpretation
What are the odds that your dream told you How you might become a Master today?
No, from the guild and its Masters
My vision did not want to take its inspiration
But surely it taught you The magic needed to win her?
How can you think that after such failure There is still hope?
I won't let my hope diminish
Nothing has yet overthrown it
Without it, I wouldn't have hindered your flight
but ran away with you
So I beg you, no more resentment
You are dealing with men of honour
They make mistakes and are content
That one takes them on their own terms
He who decides prizes and offers prizes Expects also that people should please him
Your song made them uneasy And rightly so, for when you think of it
It is with such fire of poetry and love That daughters are seduced to adventure
But for loving and blissful wedlock
Other words and melodies were invented
I know, I learned them last night From the noise I heard in the street
Yes, yes, true! The beat to it as well You must have heard, but let that be
And follow my advice, in short: Take courage and make a mastersong!
A beautiful song, a mastersong How do I grasp the difference?
My friend, in the sweet time of youth When from mighty impulse
To blissful first love The breast swells high and free
To sing a beautiful song Many have succeeded
Spring sang for them
But when summer, autumn and winter come Much hardship and care in life
Much married joy as well Baptism, business, discord and strife
Whoever then can still succeed In singing a beautiful song
Behold, he is called master!
I love a woman and will woo her
To be my wife for always
Learn the Master's rules in good time That they may truly accompany you
And help you keep What in youthful years
With fair impulse Love and spring
Placed in your heart unawares So that you may cherish it safely
If they now stand in such high repute Who was it made the rules?
It was sorely-troubled Masters Spirits oppressed by life's cares
In the desert of their troubles They formed an image for themselves
So that to them might remain Of youthful love
A memory, clear and firm In which spring can be recognised
But if Spring has faded from one's life How can its image be recaptured?
We restore it as best we can So, as a troubled man, I should like
If I am to teach you the rules For you to explain them to me anew
Look, we have ink, quill and paper You dictate, I'll write it down
I hardly know how to begin
Tell me your morning dream
Through the good precepts of your rules I feel as if it were wiped away
Then take poetry to your hand now Through it many found what was lost
So it might not be a dream, but poetry?
The two as friends go hand in hand
How do I begin by the rules?
You make your own and follow them
Think back to your beautiful morning dream
Let Hans Sachs take care of the rest
Shining in the rosy light of morning
The air heavy With blossom and scent,
Full of every Unthought-of joy
A garden invited me To be its guest
That was a stanza, now see to it That one just like it follows
Why just like it?
So that all can see That you're compatible with your bride
Blissfully towering from that blessed spot
Offering golden fruits' Healing, juicy abundance
With fair splendour In response to desire
At the tips of fragrant branches A glorious tree
Closing in a different tone Won't please the masters
But Hans Sachs will learn from it In spring it must be so
Now compose an after song
Meaning what?
If you've succeeded
In finding a true pair It will show in the offspring
Similar to the stanzas But rich in its own rhyme and melody
Well-honed and unique To make its parents proud
To form a conclusion to your stanzas So that nothing shall fall out of place
To you be confided What sublime wonder befell me
At my side stood a woman So fair and beautiful as I have never seen
Like a bride She gently enfolded my body
With twinkling eyes Her hand pointed shining
Towards what I ardently desired The fruit, so fair and precious
Of the tree of life
That's what I call an After song The whole section worked wonderfully
Only with the melody You are a little free
But I don't say that's a fault
But it isn't easy to memorise Which will vex our elders
Now fashion me a second section To show what the first one was
Also, I don't yet know Well as you've rhymed
What you've composed And what you've dreamt
Glowing in the evening's heavenly splendour
The day departed As I lay there
From her eyes To drink bliss
A desire of unique power Awoke within me
Enclosed in night My gaze grows faint
So far, yet near Shone there
Two light stars From the distance
Through the light of slender twigs Brightly on my face
A loving spring On a silent height murmurs to me
Now its lovely tone swells So strong and sweet as I've never heard it
Gleaming and bright How beautifully the stars shone there
To dance and circle In leaves and twigs
More of the golden ones come together Instead of fruit a host of stars
In the laurel tree
Friend, your vision told you true Your second section is a success too
If you would write a third It would tell the meaning of the dream
Where would I find that? Enough of words!
Action and words At their allotted time
Therefore remember well the melody It is a fine vehicle for poetry
And when you sing it in a wider circle Then hold fast to your vision too
What are you planning?
Your trusty servant Found his way here with pack and bag
The clothes in which at the marriage At your home you intended to dazzle
He has sent to me
A little bird must have shown him the nest
In which his master was dreaming
So follow me now into the chamber
With richly embroidered clothes
We must both be adorned
If we are to venture on great things
So come, if you agree with me
A courting song! By Sachs! Can this be true?
Ha! That explains everything!
So, Mr Scribe, who's the early bird?
Surely nothing wrong with your shoes?
The devil! I've never had such thin soles
I can feel every tiny stone
My marking song did that
Made them soft with the marker's strokes
No more jokes, and enough of your tricks
Believe me, friend Sachs I know what you're getting at
Last night's joke Will come back to haunt you
You created an uproar and riot To get me out of your way!
It was a stag night, don't forget Your wedding prospects spooked everyone
The crazier the fun The better the marriage
Oh, so full of cobbler's cunning And vulgar pranks
You've always been my enemy But I know your game
The girl I had chosen Born just for me
Disgrace of all widowers You want the girl for your own
So that Mr Sachs might win The goldsmith's inheritance
In the masters' assembly He insisted on clauses
So as to seduce a girl Who should listen only to him
And, forsaking other men Turn only to him
That's why! That's why! Do you think I'm stupid?
With shouts and banging You wanted to stop my song
So that the child should not know How another man felt
Yes, yes! Ha ha! Have I got you there?
From your cobbler's shop You finally set the boy
On me with cudgels To get rid of me!
Ow, ow! Ow, ow! beaten black and blue
The laughing stock of my dearest lady
So utterly thrashed
That no tailor could iron me out!
My very life Was endangered
But I escaped all the same To be able to pay you back
Just wait for the singing contest today And see how it goes
Though I'm pinched And hacked about too
I'll certainly upset your rhythm
Good friend, you're seriously deluded Believe what you like
But stop this jealousy I've no plans to compete with you
Lies and deceit! I know better
What's come over you, Master Beckmesser?
My plans are none of your business
But believe me You are deluded about me competing
You're not singing today?
Not in the competition
No courting song?
Certainly not!
But supposing I had proof of it?
The poem? It was here Have you taken it?
Is this your handwriting?
Yes, so that's it?
Quite fresh still, the writing?
And the ink still wet?
A biblical song by any chance?
Whoever guessed that would be wrong
Well then?
What do you mean?
You ask?
What more?
In all honesty You are the most exasperating of rogues
That may be, but I've yet to steal From someone else's table
And so that no one thinks badly of you
Keep the manuscript as a gift
Good heavens!
A Poem!
A poem by Sachs?
But wait! In case there's more trickery
I assume you've memorised everything?
Don't worry about that
- You'll let me have it? - That you're no thief
- And I can use it? - However you wish
- Even to sing the song? - If it's not too difficult
What if I make a success of it?
I'd be... very surprised
There you go again, you're too modest
A song by Sachs, that counts for something
And just look at the state I'm in Poor wretch that I am
I look with pain at the song Which I sang last night
Thanks to your funny pranks It made the Pogner girl uneasy
How can I produce a new song Fit for purpose and quickly?
Poor, beaten-up fellow that I am How can I find peace to finish it today?
Wooing and married life Even if God ordained them for me
I must immediately give up If I have no new song
With a song of yours, of that I'm sure I'd overcome every obstacle
If I'm to have that today buried and forgotten
Be quarrels, dispute, and strife And whatever else kept us apart
And yet! Could this be just another trap?
Only yesterday you were my enemy
How should it be that after such great trouble
You are friendly to me today?
I was making you shoes late into the night Would I do that for an enemy?
Yes, yes! Quite right! But swear one thing: Wherever and however you hear the song
You'll never take it into your head To say that the song was written by you
I swear it and give you my word I'll never admit that the song is mine
What more do I want? I am saved
Now Beckmesser's worries are over
But friend, I draw it to your attention And advise you with all kindness
Study the song well It is not easy to perform
Even if you find the right melody And get the proper tone
Friend Sachs, you are a good poet But where tone and melody are concerned
You know I'm the best Listen carefully:
Beckmesser no-one better
That cry will resound If you'll just allow me to sing in peace
But now, to memorise it Quickly home
Without losing time I'll see to that
Hans Sachs, my dearest I've misjudged you
By that adventurer I was led astray
We don't need his sort We Masters will be well rid of him
But my thoughts Are running away with me
Am I confused And quite lost?
The syllables, the rhymes The words, the lines
I'm stuck as if by glue And yet my heels are itching
Goodbye, I must be off In another place
I'll thank you heartily For being so charming
I'll vote only for you
I'll buy your works at once And make you marker
But delicately, with soft chalk Not with hammer-strokes!
Marker! Marker! Marker Hans Sachs!
In true cobbler fashion Let Nuremberg bloom and thrive!
I've never known anyone so malicious Who could keep this up for so long
Some people squander intelligence He dishes it out very sparingly
We all have our moments of weakness But after foolishness, reason prevails
That Mr Beckmesser has turned thief here
Is very welcome for my plan
See, here's Eva I was wondering where she was
God be with you, my Eva! Ah, how noble And proud you are today!
You'll fill young and old with desire By looking so beautiful
Master, there's no such danger
And if the tailor has brought it off
Who'll then see where I'm anxious
Where my shoe silently pinches me?
The naughty shoe! You were the one Who didn't want to try it on yesterday
I obviously took too much on trust Misjudging a master
I'm sorry! Show me, my child I'll deal with it right away
If I stand, it seems to go But if I go, it makes me stand
Put your foot on the stool here I'll relieve the dreadful pain
What's wrong with this one?
Look, it's too wide
Child, that is pure vanity The shoe fits snugly
Just what I said That's why it pinches my toes
Here on the left?
No, on the right
More on the instep?
Here, more at the heel
Trouble there too?
Ah Master! Don't you know better than I Where the shoe pinches me?
Indeed, I'm surprised That it's too wide, yet pinches everywhere!
- Ah! - Aha! Here it is!
Now I see what's wrong
Child, you're right, it was the stitching
Now wait, I'll cure the trouble
Stay where you are, I'll put your shoe
On the last for a while, then all will be well
Always cobbling, that is my lot Night and day I, there's no escaping it
Listen, child, I've thought it over How to put an end to my cobbling
If I were to woo you after all At least I might win something as a poet
Are you not listening? Say something Wasn't it you who gave me the idea?
I see
It is "get on with the shoes"
If only someone would sing to it!
I heard a very beautiful song earlier I wonder if there's a third verse now
Did the stars linger in their lovely dance?
So light and clear In her tresses
Above all women Fair to behold
Lay with delicate gleam A garland of stars
- Listen, child, that's a mastersong - Wonder on wonder now appears
Twofold day I gladly greet
For like twin suns Of purest bliss
The most glorious pair of eyes I there perceived
- This is what's sung at my house now - Most gracious picture
Which I have so boldly approached
The garland by two suns' beams
At once faded and made fresh green
Lovingly and mildly
- She twined it around her husband's head - Now let's see
- Born there in grace - If that's helped my shoe, at last I think
- Now set for fame - I've succeeded
- She pours heavenly joy - Try it
- Into the poet's breast - Stand on it!
- In a dream of love - Say, does it still pinch?
Shoemaking is nothing but trouble!
If I wasn't also a poet I would give up making shoes
It's so much trial and effort
Too wide for one, too tight for another People crowding in from all sides
It clops It's loose
Tight here Pinches there
A cobbler has to know everything Mending anything that's worn out
And if he's also a poet They will hassle him for this too
And if he's also a widower They will take him for a fool
The youngest girls, when there's a shortage Want him to ask for their hand
Whether he understands them or not No matter if he says yes or no
In the end he smells of pitch And is thought stupid, malicious, impudent
Ah! I'm only sorry for my apprentice He'll lose everyone's respect
Lena is already affecting his reason
And has him eating out of her hand
Where the devil is he now?
O Sachs, my friend, dearest man!
How can I reward such nobility?
What would I have done without your love?
I would have remained a child If you had not awakened me
Through you I've won what people prize
Through you I've learnt The workings of the spirit
By you awoken Only through you did I think
Nobly, freely, and boldly You made me blossom!
Yes, dear Master, scold me if you will
But I must now follow my heart
If the choice were mine alone I would choose none but you
You would have been my husband The prize would have been yours
But now I am chosen For unknown torment,
And if I am married today Then I had no choice
It was necessity, compulsion!
Even you, Master, have been dismayed
My child, of Tristan und Isolde
I know a sad tale
Hans Sachs was clever and did not want
Anything of King Mark's lot
It was high time I found the right man
Or I would have run into the same trap
Aha, there's Lena hurrying round the corner Come in! Hey, David! Aren't you coming out?
The witnesses and godparents are here
Take your places for a christening!
A child has been born here Now a name must be chosen
This the master's style and practice When a new mastersong is created
So that it may bear a fitting name By which all may recognise it
Hear, respected company What summons you here today
A new mastersong has been created And sung by the noble Walther
The melody's father has invited me And Pogner's daughter to be godparents
Because we have heard the melody We have come hither to its christening
And for witnesses to the ceremony I summon Miss Lena and my lad
But as an apprentice cannot act as witness And today he also sang his song well
I hereby promote him to journeyman Kneel down, David, and take this slap!
Arise, journeyman, and think of that blow It will always remind you of the baptism
No reproaches if we've overlooked anything
Who knows, it may be an emergency baptism
So that the melody may have strength to live I will give it its name at once
"What the blessed morning dream tells me"
Let it be named to its master's praise
May it grow tall, without harm or hurt
The youngest godparent will speak the dedication
Happy as the sun Smiling on my good fortune
A morning full of joy Blessedly awakes for me
Dream of highest favours Heavenly morning glow
Interpretation to owe you Blissful sweet task
- A melody, tender and noble - Before the child, charming and fair
- Ought to succeed gracefully - I would fain sing out
Do I wake or dream so early?
My heart's sweet burden
To interpret and subdue
To explain it gives me trouble
Is it only a morning dream?
- In my bliss, I'm not sure what it is - I scarcely dare think of it
- This melody - At this place
You won a journeyman
- Confides to me - Lena betrothed
In the church we shall even be married?
Says to me aloud
- Even youth's eternal garland - In the full circle of the masters
May it point to the highest prize
Let's go to it!
Greetings to your father
Off to the meadow! Quickly now!
Now, Sir knight, come! Be of good cheer! Journeyman David, lock up shop!
Saint Crispin Praise him!
He was a very holy man
Showed what a cobbler can do
The poor had a good time He made them warm shoes
And if no one would lend him the leather He would go and steal it
A cobbler's conscience can stretch Just as well as his shoes
And once the hide has left the tanner's Then it's stretch, stretch, stretch!
Leather is only of use in the right place
When Nuremberg lay under siege And there was famine
Land and city would have been ruined
If a tailor, a tailor, a tailor hadn't been at hand
Who had much courage and cunning
He sewed himself into a goatskin
And went walking on the city wall
And capered there Merrily and cheerfully
The enemy sees this and withdraws The devil may take the city
If there are still such bleaters in there! Me-e-eh, me-e-eh, me-e-eh!
Who'd think there was a tailor, a tailor, a tailor inside the goat!
Famine! Famine! What hideous suffering
Without the daily bread from the baker The whole world would die
Bake,bake,bake!
Each day on the spot Take away our hunger!
Stretch, stretch, stretch! Leather is only of use in the right place!
Me-e-eh, me-e-eh, me-e-eh!
Who'd think there was a tailor inside the goat!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Girls from FiJrth!
Town pipers, play, town pipers, play! Play on, let's get merry!
Dancing? What will the masters say?
Don't care? Then make way for me too
David! David! Lena's watching!
Ah! Enough of your jokes!
The mastersingers!
Heavens! Farewell, you pretty young things!
Silence!
No talking and no murmuring!
Ha! Sachs! It's Sachs! Look, Master Sachs!
Begin!
Awake
Another day is dawning
In the green grove I hear the singing
Of a blissful nightingale
Its voice rings through hill and valley
Night is sinking in the west
The day arises in the east
The ardent red dawn
Approaches through the gloomy clouds
Hail! Hail!
Hail to you, Hans Sachs!
Hail to Nuremberg's Sachs!
Hail to Nuremberg's dear Sachs!
Hail! Hail!
You make it easy for you But for me you make it hard
You do me, poor man, too much honour
To fulfil this honour
I must be sure I'm worthy of your love
To be named as today's speaker Already brings distinction
And what my speech shall tell you Believe me, is full of high honours
If you already honour art so highly It was necessary to prove
That he who cleaves to it for its own sake Esteems it above all prizes
A master, rich and high-minded Will show you this today
His daughter, his greatest treasure With all his goods and possessions
To the singer who in the song contest Wins the prize before all the people
As crown for the highest prize He offers as reward
Therefore listen and endorse my words The contest is open to the poet
You masters who are bold to try I proclaim it to you before the people
Consider the contest's rare prize And whoever shall succeed
Let him know himself pure and noble In wooing as in singing
If he will win the laurels
Which never yet, among moderns or ancients Were set so splendidly high
As by this lovely pure maiden Who shall never regret
That Nuremberg with highest worth Honours art and its masters!
O Sachs, my friend! Heartfelt thanks!
You know well what troubles me
You've risked much, now take courage
Mr Marker! All going well?
Oh! This song! I just can't grasp it And yet I've studied it long enough
My friend, it's not being forced on you
What use is that? My own's sung out
It was your fault! Now you be kind to me
It would be shameful if you left me in the lurch
- I thought you'd give up - A fine idea!
I'll outsing all the others As long as you don't sing
See how it goes then
The song, I'm sure, no one will understand
But I'm relying on your popularity
Well then, if masters and people agree Let the song contest begin
Bachelor masters, make ready!
The eldest shall appear first!
Mr Beckmesser you shall begin, it's time!
The devil! How wobbly! Make sure you make it steady!
What, him? He's wooing? He's clearly not right for her!
If I was the daughter I wouldn't want him!
A vote and a seat! He has a vote and a seat in the council
How will he get on? He can't even stand up straight!
Be quiet! He is a very able Master!
He's the town clerk, Beckmesser's his name
Silence! Silence!
No talking and no murmuring!
Begin!
Morning I shine in a rosy light
With blood and scent The air moves fast
Probably soon won As if dissolved
In the garden I invited Horrid and fine
- My! what's that? - Strange!
- Is he out of his mind? - Did you hear?
Did we understand right?
Where does he get such thoughts from?
Did we understand right?
I live passably in the same place
Fetch gold and fruit Lead-juice and weight
The aspirant Fetches me from the gallows
On airy paths scarcely I hang from the tree
A fine wooer! He'll get his reward
He'll soon be on the gallows We can see it now!
Secretly I abhor
What will get merry here
By my ladder stood a woman
She blushed and did not want to look at me
Pale as a cabbage Hemp wound about my body
Blinking its eye The dog blew winkingly
What I long devoured
Like fruit, and wood and horse From the tree of liver
Damn you, cobbler! It's you I have to thank for this!
This song is not by me at all
By Sachs, who is so highly revered here By your Sachs it was given to me
The disgraceful fellow bullied me Into accepting this awful trash
My! What does that mean? It's getting ever more confusing!
The song by Sachs? That would amaze us!
- Sachs! What a scandal! - By you, the song?
What a strange occurrence!
The song in truth is not by me Beckmesser is wrong in every respect
Let him tell you himself how he came by it But I should never dare to boast
A song as beautifully conceived as this Had been composed by me, Hans Sachs
- What? Beautiful? This confused rubbish? - This song, beautiful?
Sachs is joking! He only says it for fun
I tell you, gentlemen, the song is beautiful Only, it's easy to see at a glance
That friend Beckmesser has distorted it But I swear it will please you
If someone here were to sing The words and music properly
And whoever managed this would also show That he was poet of the song
And he would rightly be named master If he were to find just judges
I am accused and I must stand trial So let me choose my witness
If someone here knows I speak truthfully Let him enter this circle as witness!
Give witness that this song is not by me And give witness also that what I have here
Said of this song Is not an exaggeration
- How artful! - Deftly handled, Sachs!
But we'll let it pass for today
The value of a rule can be appreciated When sometimes it allows an exception
A good witness, proud and bold! Something good will come of him
Masters and townsfolk are of a mind To hear what my witness can do
Walther von Stolzing, sing the song! Masters, read, see if he brings it off
All is expectancy!
There's not a murmur
So we shall not call "silence!"
Shining in the rosy light of morning,
The air heavy With blossom and scent
Full of every Unthought-of joy
A garden invited me
There, beneath a wondrous tree Laden with rich fruit
To behold in a blessed dream of love Boldly promising fulfilment
To the highest of joy's desires
The most beautiful woman Eva in Paradise
- That's another matter, who'd have thought - Yes, indeed! I see, it makes a difference
- What a difference the right delivery makes - If one sings it wrong or right
Witness, here present Continue!
In the evening twilight Night enfolded me
On a steep path I had approached
A spring Of pure water
Which smiled at me enticingly
There beneath a laurel tree With stars shining through its leaves
In a poet's waking dream I beheld Holy and fair of countenance
Sprinkling me with the precious water
The fairest woman The Muse of Parnassus!
- It's bold and strange, that's true - So gracious and familiar when it soars
- But well-rhymed and singable - As if we were there with him!
Well-chosen witness! Continue and conclude!
Most gracious day To which I awoke from a poet's dream!
The Paradise of which I had dreamed In heavenly, new-transfigured splendour
Brightly lay before me
To which the spring laughingly Now showed me the path
She, born there My heart's elect
Earth's loveliest picture Destined to be my Muse
As holy and grave as she is mild Was boldly wooed by me
In the sun's bright daylight Through victory in song, I had won
Parnassus and Paradise!
Take the wreath The prize is yours!
No-one can woo as graciously as he!
Happiness and honour Gone are all the cares of my heart!
His is the prize!
No-one can woo as graciously as you!
The witness, I think, I chose well Does anyone hold it against Hans Sachs?
Hans Sachs! No! This was neatly done! You've made everything turn out right again
Come, Master Pogner! Let it be your honour To announce to the knight his mastership!
Adorned with King David's picture I welcome you into the guild of masters!
Not Master! No!
I will be happy without masterhood
I bid you, scorn the masters not
And honour their art
What speaks high in their praise Fell richly in your favour
Not to your ancestors, however worthy Not to your coat of arms, spear, or sword
But to the fact that you are a poet That a Master has admitted you
To that you owe today your highest happiness So, think back to this with gratitude
How can the art be unworthy Which embraces such prizes?
That our Masters have cared for it Rightly in their own way
Cherished it truly as they thought best That has kept it genuine
If it did not remain aristocratic as of old When courts and princes blessed it
In the stress of evil years It remained German and true
And if it flourished in no other way Than being pushed and pressed by all
You see how high it remained in honour What more would you ask of the Masters?
Beware! Evil tricks threaten us
If the German realm should one day decay
Under a false, foreign rule Soon no prince would understand his people
And foreign mists with foreign vanities They would plant in our German land
What is German and true none would know Lived it not in the honour of German masters
Therefore I say to you Honour your German masters
Then you will conjure up good spirits
And if you favour their endeavours
And were to perish
The Holy Roman Empire
For us would yet remain
Holy German art!
Honour your German Masters
Then you will conjure up good spirits
And if you favour their endeavours
And were to perish
The Holy Roman Empire
For us would yet remain
Holy German art!
Hail, Sachs! Nuremberg's dear Sachs!