The spinner
(Poet's title: Die Spinnerin)
Set by Schubert:
D 247
[August 1815]
Part of Goethe: The April 1816 collection sent to Goethe
Als ich still und ruhig spann,
Ohne nur zu stocken,
Trat ein schöner junger Mann
Nahe mir zum Rocken.
Lobte, was zu loben war:
Sollte das was schaden?
Mein dem Flachse gleiches Haar
Und den gleichen Faden.
Ruhig war er nicht dabei,
Ließ es nicht beim Alten;
Und der Faden riss entzwei,
Den ich lang erhalten.
Und des Flachses Steingewicht
Gab noch viele Zahlen,
Aber, ach, ich konnte nicht
Mehr mit ihnen prahlen.
Als ich sie zum Weber trug,
Fühlt’ ich was sich regen,
Und mein armes Herze schlug
Mit geschwindern Schlägen.
Nun beim heißen Sonnenstich
Bring ich’s auf die Bleiche,
Und mit Mühe bück ich mich
Nach dem nächsten Teiche.
Was ich in dem Kämmerlein
Still und fein gesponnen,
Kommt, wie kann es anders sein? –
Endlich an die Sonnen.
As I span quietly and calmly
Without even taking a break
A good looking young man appeared
Next to me by the distaff.
He praised what there was to praise;
Can there be anything to be ashamed of in that?
My hair similar to the flax,
And the same sort of thread.
He was not satisfied with that and
He couldn’t let it drop;
And the thread broke apart
That I had been holding onto for so long.
And the heavy stone for the flax
Continued to produce many figures,
But oh! I was not able to
Boast about them any longer.
When I carried them to the weaver
I felt something stirring,
And my poor heart started beating
At a faster rate.
Now, in the stinging heat of the sun
I bring my work out for bleaching,
And I bend down with difficulty
Towards the nearest pond.
That which in the little room
I span quietly and delicately
Comes out – how can it be otherwise? –
Eventually into the sun.
All translations into English that appear on this website, unless otherwise stated, are by Malcolm Wren. You are free to use them on condition that you acknowledge Malcolm Wren as the translator and schubertsong.uk as the source. Unless otherwise stated, the comments and essays that appear after the texts and translations are by Malcolm Wren and are © Copyright.
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Themes and images in this text:
Bending Breaking and shattering By water – beaches and general Hair Hearts Heat Ponds Rooms Spinning The sun Weaving Workers and working songs
It was a simile that started it all: he said that her hair was like the flax she was spinning. One thing led to another, but she really shouldn’t have let him into her ‘little room’, and now she has to cope with the consequences.
The attractive young man clearly found her spinning alluring since it drew attention to her long hair. For him, she was like the Lorelei combing her locks, almost inviting him to run his hands through her hair. Or she was a spider (eine Spinne), producing thread from her own body in order to catch her prey.
What happened next has an inevitability about it, and this is reflected in the imagery of textile work. The secretive and solitary action of spinning (turning strands of flax into continuous yarn) has to give way to more public activity, as the yarn is taken to the weaver’s. The resulting pieces of cloth then have to be washed and laid out for all to see as they are bleached. One such piece of cloth will become the head covering that should be worn by respectable married mothers to cover their otherwise alluring long hair.
In this case, though, the thread broke. The bleaching process that should symbolise the purity of the maiden’s work is accompanied by the burning, stinging sun. In a patriarchal society the ‘fallen’ woman has to bear the shame of her illicit dealings becoming public knowledge, laid out for all to see. That is what comes of having flaxen hair.
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Original Spelling Die Spinnerin Als ich still und ruhig spann, Ohne nur zu stocken, Trat ein schöner junger Mann Nahe mir zum Rocken. Lobte, was zu loben war, Sollte das was schaden? Mein dem Flachse gleiches Haar, Und den gleichen Faden. Ruhig war er nicht dabei Ließ es nicht beim Alten; Und der Faden riß entzwey, Den ich lang' erhalten. Und des Flachses Stein-Gewicht Gab noch viele Zahlen; Aber, ach! ich konnte nicht Mehr mit ihnen prahlen. Als ich sie zum Weber trug, Fühlt' ich was sich regen, Und mein armes Herze schlug Mit geschwindern Schlägen. Nun, beim heißen Sonnenstich, Bring' ich's auf die Bleiche, Und mit Mühe bück' ich mich Nach dem nächsten Teiche. Was ich in dem Kämmerlein Still und fein gesponnen, Kommt - wie kann es anders seyn? - Endlich an die Sonnen.
Confirmed by Peter Rastl with Schubert’s source, Goethe’s sämmtliche Schriften. Siebenter Band. / Gedichte von Goethe. Erster Theil. Lyrische Gedichte. Wien, 1810. Verlegt bey Anton Strauß. In Commission bey Geistinger, pages 293-294; with Goethe’s Werke, Vollständige Ausgabe letzter Hand, Erster Band, Stuttgart und Tübingen, in der J.G.Cottaschen Buchhandlung, 1827, pages 202-203; and with Göthe’s neue Schriften. Siebenter Band. Berlin. Bei Johann Friedrich Unger. 1800, pages 63-64.
To see an early edition of the text, go to page 293 [307 von 418] here: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ163965701