The Poet's Love(r)

The creation of The Poet’s Love(r) was the result of iterative conversations and varied interests, both creative and pragmatic, as Rebecca Babb-Nelsen, Chanda VanderHart, and Eric Stokloßa  discuss in an informal round table in Vienna on 20 March 2022:

The music and recited poems were recorded in Hemmle Recital Hall at Texas Tech University in November 2021 and will be released in full as a commercial product (CD with booklet) in 2025, along with an open access score created by VanderHart. 

All texts are printed below. The translations of Heine’s texts and the original poems were written by soprano, poet, and German studies scholar, Rebecca Babb-Nelsen. A selection of the mastered audio tracks is likewise included, featuring Eric Stokloßa (tenor), Chanda VanderHart (pianist) and Rebecca Babb-Nelsen (recitation). 

The fleshed-out narratives from the perspectives of both poet and lover are laid out below, conforming spatially in terms of chronology to indicate where both characters’ experiences coincide, and where they significantly diverge.

All illustrations are the results of feeding texts into the AI program Dreamer AI Art Generator, with a most in-depth discussion of the process and implications on page six of this exposition.

On the left are Heine’s original poems, in singable English translations, representing the male protagonist’s viewpoint, while on the right Babb-Nelsen’s original poems illuminate a second, hitherto unvoiced female protagonist’s potential interior experience.

1.

The wondrous, lovely month of May

As all the tender buds unfurled,

There opened in my heart

True love's enchanting world.

The wondrous, lovely month of May,

As all the birds sang in their choir 

Then I confessed to her,

My longing and desire. 

1.

I met him on a summer’s day 

New life bloomed all around us 

What started out as childrens’ play 

Matured, young love had found us. 

My smile had caught a poet’s eye

And he a love poem proffered 

My maiden’s blush in my reply

Accepted what he offered. 

2.

From my own tears, there sprang  

A bounty of flowers in bloom

And my deep sighs grew into

A nightingale’s sweet tune.

And if you can love me, darling

I’ll give you the flowers all

And beneath your window will echo

The nightingale’s sweet call.

2.

The poet stood under my window last night 

Awakened me, breathless and pale 

And there in the garden spoke of love’s delight,

To the tune of a lone nightingale.

The youth held a bouquet of flowers 

Clenched tight in his quivering hand

And I could have listened for hours

To the words of this beautiful man.

3.

The rose and the lily, the dove and the sunlight, 

I loved them all once with my heart’s delight,

I love them no more, I cherish now solely, 

The sweet one, the rare one, the pure one and only,

She lives alone in love’s delight,

As rose and as lily as dove and as sunlight,

I cherish now solely the sweet one, the rare one,

the true one, the pure one and only! 

3.

Never before in my young life 

Have I been so effusively praised 

The pedestal, on which he placed me

Seems over all mountaintops raised. 

But dare I look down in the shadows, 

From the dizzying heights of his tower 

I grow weak and afraid of the plummet 

That awaits if I let go this hour 

Of my virtue, that white banner flying, 

Displayed to all over my head.

My standard at once would be sullied          

If I stole to my dear lover’s bed. 

He has made me no promise of marriage, 

As a poet, my love has no means. 

We must meet with each other in secret,

Yet his love gives my tender heart wings,

So I take on the risk and the peril 

Of temptation and meet him again 

And as moths, our two hearts fly yet nearer 

To the danger of passion’s bright flame. 

4.

I gaze in your dear eyes and see

You’ve banished all my misery,

But when my lips taste your sweet kiss

I am filled utterly with bliss.

When I lay down on your soft breast

I’m overcome and heaven-blessed,

But when you say, “I love you, dear”

Then I must shed a bitter tear. 

4a.

My father says he has a plan.

A contract has been signed. 

I must belong to some strange man 

Until the end of time. 

I cry, I protest bitterly 

This choice that would be mine. 

Yet father sneers dismissively

And drinks his glass of wine. 

My maidenhead, so highly prized, 

Should now go to this stranger.

I make a quick, rebellious plan,

Near swooning from the danger. 

My hand may be my father’s ware 

To sell as he sees fit, 

My heart, however,  is not his.

I hold control of it.

4b.

My mother is an empty shell, 

She does what father orders. 

She gives no respite from my hell 

But firmly draws the borders 

Of what’s acceptable for me 

how I each day should live. 

I see her watching warily

No missteps she’ll forgive.

My mother is an empty shell 

Wrapped up in silk and lace.

The worries that she does not tell 

Lie etched upon her face.

She echoes for the hundredth time 

The tale of her poor sister,

Who lost her virtue, and her mind, 

To one beguiling trickster. 

He promised her the stars, the moon,

If she would give her passion,

But his false love was gone too soon,

Then her sweet face lay ashen, 

Upon a pillow in a tomb,

Dressed up as if a bride 

A secret child still in her womb 

By her own hand she died. 

My mother is an empty shell 

That’s what she wants for me,

To languish chaste, to marry well 

Devoid of liberty. 

5.

I'll pour my dear soul like a river 

In the cup of lily’s perfume

The lily should softly whisper

A song of my love’s first bloom.

The song should shiver and glisten 

Like a kiss from her sweet lips 

Once she to me has given,

Time wonderf’ly sweet eclipsed. 

6.

The Rhine, its holy stream flowing,

Reflected there in the foam

With its cathedral glowing

Stands mighty, sacred Cologne.

Therein, there hangs a painting 

On golden leather engraved

In my life’s chaos reigning 

A friendly sweet smile displayed. 

There float sweet angels and primrose 

Around Our Lady fair

The eyes and the lips blush, the lips, her cheeks’ blossoms

Resemble my love past compare.

6.

The flower that we planted, 

Together on that night,  

Grows slowly in my garden, 

And fills my heart with fright. 

I go to tell my father, 

About the deed I’ve done. 

I kneel and plead for marriage

To him, my only one. 

My father’s visage darkens, 

He threatens with a shout, 

I’ll be a ruined woman, 

And he will turn us out. 

My mother sits in silence, 

Declaring with her gaze, 

That she will never help us, 

Till the end of all her days. 

My lover has gone missing. 

For me remains one way, 

I must lie and I must marry 

Father’s choice without delay. 

7.

No grudge I bear, despite my heart‘s despair.

Ever departed love! Ever departed love!

No grudge I bear. No grudge I bear.

Oh how you shine in diamonds false delight.

There is no glow in your cold heart‘s dark night!

I’ve known so long. 

No grudge I bear, despite my heart‘s despair.

I saw your mask in visions,

I saw the night live in your heart‘s decisions,

I saw the snake, that gnaws your heart with glee, 

I saw, my love, you in your misery.

No grudge I bear! No grudge I bear!

7. 

I go to the church for confession, 

My father has driven me here,

But I’ll speak to no priest, ask no blessing, 

From a man chaste of love, bound in fear. 

Instead I will seek out the virgin, 

Who was pure, and yet mother with child.

And from her loving gaze gain permission, 

To love on, and remain undefiled. 

8.

If only the flowers so small knew,

The depth of wounds in my heart,

Their petals sweet would weep dew,

To make my pain depart,

If only the Nightingales heard

How I am lonely and grim,

They’d call out as one sweet songbird,

A soul-refreshing hymn.

On hearing my frustrations 

The golden bright stars above

Would fly down from their high stations 

To speak relief and love,

But none of them can now grasp it

Just one heart can know my pain

For she herself has dashed it 

And ripped my heart in twain! 

8.

The man I wed I do not love, 

Despite this gaudy show,

I hide my grief behind a smile 

And no one seems to know.

I look across the crowded hall

And lo, who do I see?

The poet I loved over all 

Stands glaring hate at me.

His countenance a mad man’s mask 

His eyes are wide - a ghost.

My husband raises up his glass 

To bid the wedding toast.

I smile and raise my glass to his 

This hollow gesture done,

I turn my eyes and search the room 

To seek my only one.

But he has fled far from this place 

I never had the chance 

To tell him why I made my choice 

They start the bridal dance.

The trumpets and the violins, 

They scream their happy tune, 

The wedding guests, like harpies, 

Spin 'round this fetid room.

And I am swept away, away,

With friendly, smiling eyes,

I’ve traded my true love today 

To live a farce of lies. 

9.

A choir of flutes and of fiddles

And trumpets sound in the hall, 

Yes, trumpets sound in the hall, 

There dancing this wedding-swindle, 

The love of my life, my all,

The love of my life, my all.

There is cacophonous droning, 

There is cacophonous droning, 

Of drums and of loud bassoon, 

Amidst this, crying and moaning, 

Amidst this, crying and moaning, 

The kindhearted angels swoon. 

9.

I have become a stranger’s wife,

I do not know his heart. 

He lays so heavily on me, 

I fear I’ll fall apart. 

No poetry escapes his lips, 

Instead a hearty snore. 

I curl up tight, away from him,

And know myself a whore. 

My duty done, I can but hope, 

The bud that grows within, 

Can dally ‘till her time to bloom,

So he will call her kin. 

And I’ve betrayed my lover, 

Far more than that, my soul, 

No other choice was left for me, 

This grief will eat me whole. 

10.

When that sweet tune is blowing,

That once my darling sang,

I feel my poor breast exploding,

With wild, heart-crushing pain.

I’m led by a darkness sighing,

High up where willows grow, 

There vanishes, in crying

My overpow’ring woe.

10. 

I know not where my lover is, 

His heart calls out to mine, 

The new life quickens in my womb, 

And ice runs down my spine. 

I open up the window 

Of the prison I call home 

And sing the lover’s ballad

My true love would know alone.

The melancholy melody

Floats out into the gloom

I hear my life flow out of me,

With each note of his tune. 

I see him in my mind‘s eye

Still overwrought with greif,

I wish that I could offer him,

My one true love, relief. 

My husband is a boorish brute, 

His eyes are always prying. 

I cannot leave his cursed house. 

I feel as if I’m dying.

11.

A young man loves a maiden,

But she has another in mind

The other loves yet another

And he has made this one his bride.

The maiden weds in anger

The next distinguished gent,

Who crosses her path ill-fated

The young man is malcontent.

It is but an ancient narration 

But one that’s always new

For him, its newest victim

It breaks his heart in two!

11.

I am beset with anger, 

True love abandoned me,

He knows not of the growing seed,

Or how I wish to flee.

But where could I, a woman, go, 

In this cruel fated world? 

I have no craft, I have no trade, 

I own no gold, no pearl. 

I heard my love has lost his mind, 

And wails into the distance, 

That he goes barefoot, seeming mad, 

This offers no assistance. 

My brilliant poet, beggar now, 

Has made the woods his home, 

A child and mother cannot live 

On pretty words alone. 

Why could he not find some small way 

To work, to ply a trade?

It would not take so very much  

To keep the oaths we made. 

I know his heart is broken, 

Mine's rent beyond repair, 

But I do not have the luxury, 

To wallow in despair. 

12.

One shimmering summer’s morning

I walked in gardens forlorn, 

There whispered and murmured the flowers

I sadly wandered, torn.

There whispered and murmured the flowers

And gazed as pity began

“Hold for our sister no malice,

You heartbroken, pallid man.”

12.

This morning in the garden,

I swear I saw a ghost, 

For a moment he was there, 

The poet I loved most. 

His face was white and ashen,

A vision through the veil, 

His eyes, devoid of passion, 

His mouth, a silent wail. 

I ran to where I’d seen him, 

He vanished in the mist, 

Left behind a broken flower, 

where his dear feet had kissed. 

I took that broken blossom, 

And pressed it to my heart,

I know the endless torture, 

When life tears love apart. 

13.

I in my dream was weeping,

I dreamed that you laid in your tomb,

I quickly woke, and my tears were

Flowing from my cheeks full of gloom.

I in my dream was weeping

I dreamed you abandoned me

I sadly woke and was crying

For hours bitterly.

I in my dream was weeping

I dreamed your love cured all my fears

I gladly woke, but to notice

still coursed my flood of tears.

13.

My husband and my lover 

Are not one and the same, 

My child will bear the face of one,

And wear the other’s name.

I endure my wifely duties, 

But escape with tight-shut eyes. 

There I see my lover’s visage, 

There I hear my lover’s sighs. 

How many women must like me,

Trade joy for such vile lies, 

Survive the daily drudgery, 

Of marriage they despise?

14.

Each night, love, in my dreams you appear

And I see you sweetly, sweetly smiling 

I loudly weeping sink sincere 

to your sweet feet, beguiling. 

You gaze down at me, heartbroken kneel

And shake out, shake out your flaxen ringlets,

From your deep blue eyes softly steal

Your pearly tears’ sweet droplets.

You tell me, softly, a whispered word

And give me a branch, a branch from a cypress.

Then I wake up with no branch conferred

the word lost in my blindness.

14.

I saw my lover in my dreams,
His eyes were full of tears.
His feet were perched upon a cliff,
Awakening my fears.

I cannot reach my lover here,
I cannot call his name,
I cannot tell him of his child,
Or heal my lover’s pain.

When I wake, I’ll see the face,
That I am loathe to see.
My angry, boorish husband
There, staring down at me.

I feel alone when next to him,
My heart, an empty tomb,
How I would run away from him,
But for my growing womb.

Yet, here in dreams, I see his face,
Remember his sweet poem.
I feel the ghost of his embrace,
Then wake, and am alone.

15.

From olden tales it tempts us 

Invites with iv’ory hand 

With singing tones tempestuous 

Of an enchanted land.

Where vivid flowers twining

In golden evening light

and sweetly scented shining 

Each bride’s sweet face delight.

And verdant trees are singing 

Their ancient, sacred tune 

The heavens softly ringing 

As birds in song commune.

With cloud-born visions rising 

Up from the earthly fire 

They dance, new forms devising 

In wondrous, perfect choir.

And bluish flames are burning 

On every leaf and sprig

And bright red lights are turning 

A manic, tangled jig.

And raucous fountains shiver 

From wild white marble peer 

And strangely, in each river 

reflects a mystic mirror.

Ah! Ah! 

How gladly there I’d travel 

To fill my heart with glee 

And all my pain unravel

And free and happy be! 

Oh this dear land of joy mine,

I see it oft in dreams 

Alas! The morning sunshine 

Dissolves it in its beams 

Dissolves it in its beams. 

15.

The day has come when our sweet child,

Will lay upon my breast,

I yearn, and yet am sore afraid,

My heart pounds in my chest.

I fear the pain, I fear the risk, 

I fear she won’t survive, 

I feel the joy and rush 

of being utterly alive. 

This unknown land of motherhood

Seems like a fairy tale,  

God willing, I will take her hand, 

And lead her through the veil. 

The pains set in, a stronger pain, 

Than I have ever known.

I fight it, hoarse from screaming; 

I must walk this way alone. 

The bridge is dark and perilous 

With death on either side, 

I must not fall into the gulf, 

Whose jaws have opened wide. 

Amidst my cries of agony, 

A new sound cuts the gloom, 

And light and beauty trickle in, 

Her cries ring through the room. 

They lay her head upon my chest, 

And I give in to laughter, 

I can’t have him, but I have her, 

To love forever after. 

16.

The old and angry music 

The dreams so wild and dire 

We’ll let them now be buried 

Build an enormous pyre!

On this I’ll lay a great deal

Of what, please do not ask

The coffin must be larger 

Than Heidelberg’s great cask.

And bring me a dead man’s gurney 

Find boards with strong thick ridge 

These boards should be yet longer 

Than built in Mainz the bridge.

Then find for me twelve giants 

To each brute more strength assign 

More than the statue Christoph

Who stands guard o’er the Rhine, 

They then should the coffin lower 

And sink in the sea’s dark gloom

For such a mighty coffin 

Deserves a mighty tomb.

Do you know why the coffin 

So great and vast must be?

I drowned all of my love 

And all my pain with me.

16.

I heard the chilling news today, 

That my love took his life. 

They found him in the river, 

With a note marked 'For my wife.' 

And in some secret kindness, 

His note came here to me, 

Inside it were his final poems, 

His love for all to see. 

Before I can dissolve in tears, 

I hear our daughter’s cries,

I lift her and take solace

In her father’s dulcet eyes. 

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