WINTERREISE

A version of Wilhelm Mller

This version restores the sequence to its original order, with each poem bearing the number
given it in Schuberts song cycle instead of Mllers titles.

for I. J. R

I.
Snow hides the path
my footsteps muffled
as when I came
treading
softly
as a stranger
before all
this talk of love
and marriage.
Stray dogs howl
at empty doorways.
Let them.
I will follow deer tracks
to white
meadows.
Good night
sleep on
what is the sense
in staying now Im
a stranger here again?
Love wanders
and so will I.
Forget
what happened
in the spring
the shadow
of the moon
shows me the way
past the gate
I have written on

II.
You must have seen the wind
spinning it clear
as day
as good as a billboard
a hoarding
to faithlessness
a weather vane
shows how the wind blows
in that house
that house
where a rich bride
lives

III.
Somehow in the glare
they are frozen
as they fall from me
no different from the morning
dew
unnoticed
they run
from a fire that could
melt
all of this

IV.
Pallid flower stalks
the grass is livid
her face is frozen
in my heart.
What do I look for
in these wastes
green meadows?
or a trace of
her footsteps
when she clung
on my arm?
No use now
trying
to melt the snow
or my heart ...
with no one
to remember
her to me
she'll just
trickle off
with the melt water
and nothing left

V.
By the well
before the gate
the linden tree
where I slept in the shade
and dreamt
and carved
sweet words
in amongst
the branches
is calling me to rest.
My hat flew off
tonight
when I passed
wind threw snow
in my face
my eyes were closed
even in darkness
I did not look back.
This was hours ago
hours of walking
from that house
from those branches ...
even now
I hear them

calling me to rest

XIII.
The post horn
in the road
and my heart
leaps.
There can be no
letter for me
that I know
but
it leaps
just the same:
these riders
from town
must surely
carry
news of her

VI.
Before the rusted grass
puts forth
its green
a milder wind
is meant to blow.
Tell me
snow
you know how I long
for her
tell me where
your path leads
when the ice
breaks up
and your slush
floods the tracks.
Follow my tears
and they will take you
to town
past busy streets
to the glowing house
I left

VII.
Her name
the day we met
the time and when I left
exuberant stream
with a pointed stone
I have written
on the crust
you have become
surrounded
by a broken ring.
You do not move now
or greet me
or shine.
I see myself
in your cold length
stretched out
on the sand:
beneath the ice
a current seethes

VIII.
I have hurried to get away
my feet flaming
on the snow and ice
not wanting to take
a breath
until
the spires were
out of sight.
A raven on the rooftop
pelted my hat
with hailstones
when I left.
Faithless town
your windows shone
when I came to you
the larks outsang
the nightingales
linden trees
puffed like balls
of blossom
streams were bright
and a girls eyes flashed.
That was it
that moment ...
And when that day
slides back into view
how I long
to stagger back
to stand there
by the house

XIV.
Some men
turn grey overnight
they say
then why not me?
why not my head
the frost has grizzled
this morning?
Why should
daylight take
my grey hairs away
when I am still
so far from the grave?

XV.
I see you again
crow
strange creature
flapping overhead.
Im sure
you can't want
to pick
my bones ...
why of all things
do you follow
me
so faithfully
all the way from town?

XVI.
Little rags still
cling to
some of these trees
undaunted by
the white
the unbearable calm.
When the wind
shakes one leaf
I lose myself
I hang my hopes
on it
watch it move
and when it falls
I
fall with it

XVII.
There is wood smoke
in the village
and restless dogs
and sleepers dream
of all the things
they cannot have.
Tomorrow they will wake
contented
knowing soon
they will dream again ...
Bah!
Drag your
chains
bark me
from their pillows
dogs!
Ive had it
with sleep
give me no rest!

XVIII.
This is a morning
after my own heart
unadulterated
winter
cruel and cold
the sky ripped
to shreds
grey clouds
flung about
exhausted
ready to drop
red
flames
start to peep
between them

XIX.
See how willing
I follow
the dancing light
like any traveller
of ice
and darkness.
What do I care
leave me
my delusions.
The hearth
so bright and warm
and see
there
her loving arms ...

XX.
Why
I'm no outlaw
why do
I cower from the roads
others take
brush snow
from the sides
of narrow paths
find out
hidden routes
on rocky heights?
Signposts
call me to town.
I walk straight past
ceaselessly
seeking rest
my direction
is fixed

XXI.
At the graveyard
wreaths are hung
welcoming
the weary
the blackboard
at the door
of a cool tavern.
But is every room
really taken?
not a single bed
for the wounded?
Then on
on my staff!
we will carry on
walking

IX.
Dont stop to think
of the way out
just keep on.
The will-o-the-wisp
guides me
deep into the ice
down gullies long since
dried up
on the mountainside.
Every path has
to lead somewhere
I know
every river its sea
every sorrow
its grave

X.
Lying
in a charcoal burners
tiny cottage
I see how tired
I am at last
how walking
lifted my spirits.
On the road
my feet
would not stand still
for the cold
my back
was light
the storm helped me
blew me along.
But here
now I have stopped
my legs
can't be still
memory
uncoils itself
in the shadow
shows its fangs

XXIII.
Morning at last
phantom suns
in the sky
and we stare
at each other
like lovers
dissembling
icy lovers
who belong
to other people.
Go
shine somewhere else!
but one of you please
stay
long enough
I need you
to follow me
into the dark

XI.
Leaves
drooping at the window
scoff
at my dreams of spring
lush meadows
bright flowers
birds that hop
songs of May
in wintertime.
Here
ravens caw
from the rooftops.
No matter.
I'll dream of love again
warm lips
soft hair
laughter
rapture
But these leaves!
I can't stand the sight of them
when will they

be green again?
When
will I hold her?

XII.
A light breeze
fans the fur tops
the world is silver
and like a dark cloud
crossing
clear blue skies
I trudge on
friendless
weary as before.
The day is serene
so calm it hurts
with serenity
like this
who needs storms?

XXII.
I shake off the snow
that lashes my face
my heart
keeps quiet
when it hears me
singing;
ice
under my boots
and the blood
rises
lead on!
my staff
into the blast!

XXIV.
Tottering
barefoot on the wastes
out behind
the village
he stands
by his plate
nothing in it
just frost
his hands numb
yet nimble
this
is an organ-grinder
to make dogs growl
and villagers
hasten
on their way.
Everything
he seems to say
will happen
just as it will
he plays
his tune so well ...
Old man
can I join you?
will you turn
your crank
for me?
for my songs?