Gustav Mahler’s Not-Ninth Symphony
Das Lied von der Erde, 1908-09

By Judith Eckelmeyer

(GRACE WOODS MUSIC SESSION SEPTEMBER 22, 2025)

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Gustav Mahler, photographed in 1907 by Moritz Nähr at the end of his period as director of the Vienna Hofoper

Those residents of Breckenridge who were here in May of 2022 may remember the session led by Dr. David Schwartz on Gustav Mahler’s 1909 Symphony No. 9, his last completed symphony. That strictly instrumental symphony begins with an audial affirmation of Mahler’s medical condition, a cardiac disease that produced a distinctive sound in his ears, which he then replicated in a very low horn part to begin the symphony.  ​

The Song of the Earth is not known as Mahler’s 9th symphony even though it immediately follows his 8th. The eighth is generally called “The Symphony of A Thousand” because it is a massive work for orchestral and vocal forces-- two-movement setting of the ancient hymn “Veni creator spiritus” (Come, creator spirit) followed in the second movement by the conclusion of Goethe’s epic poem Faust, for orchestra, choruses and soloists. No, Mahler called his next opus simply “Symphony for Tenor, Alto (or Baritone) Voice and Orchestra”. The reason he side-stepped the numerical designation was a superstition held among composers since Beethoven that they would die after finishing a ninth symphony.

How and why did this superstition impact Mahler’s work?
​
When he began composing Das Lied and decided against numbering it, Mahler was well aware that he had a serious heart condition. [I’m indebted to David Schwatz and his physician father for the following:] In 1907 he had been diagnosed with valvular heart disease as the result of having had rheumatic fever as a child. His physician recommended that he refrain from all strenuous activities, turning him into a ‘cardiac cripple’. Eventually bacteria built up around the damaged valve. This infection, bacterial endocarditis, caused his death.  

Is this the message that emerges from The Song of the Earth?  A fear of death? Well, read on for other factors useful for understanding this amazing work.
Let’s consider the work itself now. ​

The Song of the Earth is of a hybrid genre, symphony and song cycle, which acquired the term “song-symphony”.  Each of the six movements is a setting of a poetry Mahler selected from a collection of 83 eighth-century Tang-dynasty poems. These poems were adaptations by German poet Hans Bethge (1876-1946) of earlier adaptations in English, French and German, published between 1862 and 1905. Bethge’s collection, The Chinese Flute, was published in 1908. (We might remember that early in his composition career Mahler used poems from the collection Des Knaben Wunderhorn, gathered by Beethoven’s contemporaries Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano. Some of those settings appeared in his symphonies in purely instrumental form.) By the end of the 19th century Europe and the Americas were becoming more familiar with Asian culture, introduced centuries earlier by travelers like Marco Polo and Jesuit missionaries. “Chinoiserie” was fashionable especially in the 18th century but kept resurfacing in the following centuries. Especially in the late 19th century exoticism became a major theme for artists of all genres, and Bethge’s collection fit into that movement.
Mahler’s Song of the Earth treats varied glimpses of Chinese life as presented by several 8th century poets. Li Bai, a.k.a. Li Tai-Po (701-762), whose popularity in the Tang Dynasty may have been enhanced by his poetry about wine, was a major imbiber; in a boat, intoxicated, he is said to have tried to grasp the moon’s reflection in the water and drowned. Four of his poems are in Mahler’s symphony as numbers 1, 3, 4 and 5. Tchang-Tsi, a.k.a. Qian Qi (765?-830?) was a contemporary of Li Bai; part of one of his poems serves as the text of Mahler’s second movement. In the last movement Mahler sets two poems: “Expecting the Friend” by Meng Hao-Jen, a.k.a. Meng Haoran (689/691-740), whose poems were inspired by landscapes, and “The Friend’s Farewell” by Wang-Wei (701-761), a musician, landscape painter, nature poet, and politician. We should note that Mahler rarely used texts unchanged and entire but rather altered them or even added his own text, e.g. at the end of the Resurrection Symphony (No. 2), personalizing the message with his own thoughts. This happens in Das Lied In several movements: Title changes in numbers 3 and 4; a single word in number 5; and in the 6th movement, significant modification of the last 10 lines to bring the individual (himself) into the cycle of nature, an eternal state like Nirvana.

It's tempting on first experience with the work to see it as a total “downer”. A lot of the text conveys a negative view of life. The recurring motif in the first song, “Dark is life, is death”, is a case in point, and the tenor singing it refers to his “song of sorrow”. He mitigates his sorrow with wine, saying “A full wine-goblet at the right moment is worth more than all the riches of this world!” Yet within the gloom of much of the text are many delicate moments suggestive of nature’s beauty, paradoxically reminding of the brevity of human life alongside the eternal glorious sights and sounds around. Conductor Ivàn Fischer’s insightful commentary on Das Lied on YouTube, sees the final movement’s ending message is the receding human life into more and more distant realms, joining the universe in eternity. The orchestration vastly helps this image.

Speaking of the orchestra, in Das Lied Mahler employs a wide variety of instruments in what seems to be a potential juggernaut of sound. Rest assured, as is his practice, Mahler applies instruments with a chamber-music touch; sonic colors appear in solo or small groups, sometimes in fleeting moments, and some of the louder brasses are dropped entirely from several movements. Among the most beautiful and delicate sound environments Mahler created is the third movement, “Of Youth”, in which its oriental-sounding pentatonic scale system conjures up the images that the poem describes: a pavilion of porcelain, a jade arch, friends drinking tea while chatting and writing poetry, and the bridge (arch), a half-moon reflected upside-down on the pond. But listen for the tambourine, the glockenspiel, and the mandolin, and pay attention to the haunting oboe solos throughout.
Because it will enhance your enjoyment of this symphony, I will  give the German and English text as provided in Wikipedia.

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1. "Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde" ("The Drinking Song of Earth's Sorrow")

Schon winkt der Wein im gold'nen Pokale,
Doch trinkt noch nicht, erst sing' ich euch ein Lied!
Das Lied vom Kummer
Soll auflachend in die Seele euch klingen.
Wenn der Kummer naht,
Liegen wüst die Gärten der Seele,
Welkt hin und stirbt die Freude, der Gesang.
Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod.

Herr dieses Hauses!
Dein Keller birgt die Fülle des goldenen Weins!
Hier, diese Laute nenn' ich mein!
Die Laute schlagen und die Gläser leeren,
Das sind die Dinge, die zusammen passen.
Ein voller Becher Weins zur rechten Zeit
Ist mehr wert, als alle Reiche dieser Erde!
Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod!

Das Firmament blaut ewig und die Erde
Wird lange fest steh'n und aufblüh'n im Lenz.
Du aber, Mensch, wie lang lebst denn du?
Nicht hundert Jahre darfst du dich ergötzen
An all dem morschen Tande dieser Erde!

Seht dort hinab! Im Mondschein auf den Gräbern
Hockt eine wild-gespenstische Gestalt –
Ein Aff' ist's! Hört ihr, wie sein Heulen
Hinausgellt in den süßen Duft des Lebens!

Jetzt nehmt den Wein! Jetzt ist es Zeit, Genossen!
Leert eure gold'nen Becher zu Grund!
Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod!

The wine beckons in golden goblets
but drink not yet; first I'll sing you a song.
The song of sorrow
shall ring laughingly in your soul.
When the sorrow comes,blasted lie the gardens of the soul,
blasted lie the gardens of the soul.
Dark is life, dark is death.

​
Master of this house,
your cellar is full of golden wine!
Here, this lute I call mine.
The lute to strike and the glasses to drain,
these things go well together.
A full goblet of wine at the right time
is worth more than all the kingdoms of this earth.
Dark is life, dark is death!

The heavens are ever blue and the Earth
shall stand sure, and blossom in the spring.
But you O man, what long life have you?
Not a hundred years may you delight
in all the rotten baubles of this earth.

See down there! In the moonlight, on the graves
squats a wild ghostly shape;
an ape it is! Hear you his howl go out
in the sweet fragrance of life.

Now! Drink the wine! Now it is time comrades.
Drain your golden goblets to the last.
Dark is life, dark is death!

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2. "Der Einsame im Herbst" ("The Solitary One in Autumn"

Herbstnebel wallen bläulich überm See;
Vom Reif bezogen stehen alle Gräser;
Man meint, ein Künstler habe Staub von Jade
Über die feinen Blüten ausgestreut.

Der süße Duft der Blumen ist verflogen;
Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder.
Bald werden die verwelkten, gold'nen Blätter
Der Lotosblüten auf dem Wasser zieh'n.

Mein Herz ist müde. Meine kleine Lampe
Erlosch mit Knistern, es gemahnt mich an den Schlaf.
Ich komm' zu dir, traute Ruhestätte!
Ja, gib mir Ruh', ich hab' Erquickung not!

Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten.
Der Herbst in meinem Herzen währt zu lange.
Sonne der Liebe willst du nie mehr scheinen,
Um meine bittern Tränen mild aufzutrocknen?

Autumn fog creeps bluishly over the lake.
Every blade of grass stands frosted.
As though an artist had jade-dust
over the fine flowers strewn.

The sweet fragrance of flower has passed;
A cold wind bows their stems low.
Soon will the wilted, golden petals
of lotus flowers upon the water float.

My heart is tired. My little lamp
expired with a crackle, minding me to sleep.
I come to you, trusted resting place.
Yes, give me rest, I have need of refreshment!

​
I weep often in my loneliness.
Autumn in my heart lingers too long.
Sun of love, will you no longer shine
Gently to dry up my bitter tears?

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3. "Von der Jugend" ("Of Youth"

​Mitten in dem kleinen Teiche
Steht ein Pavillon aus grünem
Und aus weißem Porzellan.

Wie der Rücken eines Tigers
Wölbt die Brücke sich aus Jade
Zu dem Pavillon hinüber.

In dem Häuschen sitzen Freunde,
Schön gekleidet, trinken, plaudern.
Manche schreiben Verse nieder.

Ihre seidnen Ärmel gleiten
Rückwärts, ihre seidnen Mützen
Hocken lustig tief im Nacken.

Auf des kleinen Teiches stiller
Wasserfläche zeigt sich alles
Wunderlich im Spiegelbilde.

Alles auf dem Kopfe stehend
In dem Pavillon aus grünem
Und aus weißem Porzellan;

Wie ein Halbmond steht die Brücke,
Umgekehrt der Bogen. Freunde,
Schön gekleidet, trinken, plaudern.

​In the middle of the little pond
stands a pavilion of green
and white porcelain.

Like the back of a tiger
arches the jade bridge
over to the pavilion.

Friends sit in the little house
well dressed, drinking, chatting.
some writing verses.

Their silk sleeves glide
backwards, their silk caps
rest gaily at the napes of their necks.

On the small pond's still
surface, everything shows
whimsical in mirror image.

Everything stands on its head
in the pavilion of green
and white porcelain.

Like a half-moon is the bridge
its arch upturned. Friends
well dressed, drinking, chatting.

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4. "Von der Schönheit" ("Of Beauty"

​Junge Mädchen pflücken Blumen,
Pflücken Lotosblumen an dem Uferrande.
Zwischen Büschen und Blättern sitzen sie,
Sammeln Blüten in den Schoß und rufen
Sich einander Neckereien zu.

Gold'ne Sonne webt um die Gestalten,
Spiegelt sie im blanken Wasser wider,
Sonne spiegelt ihre schlanken Glieder,
Ihre süßen Augen wider,
Und der Zephir hebt mit Schmeichelkosen
Das Gewebe Ihrer Ärmel auf,
Führt den Zauber
Ihrer Wohlgerüche durch die Luft.

O sieh, was tummeln sich für schöne Knaben
Dort an dem Uferrand auf mut'gen Rossen?
Weithin glänzend wie die Sonnenstrahlen;
Schon zwischen dem Geäst der grünen Weiden
Trabt das jungfrische Volk einher!

Das Roß des einen wiehert fröhlich auf
Und scheut und saust dahin,
Über Blumen, Gräser wanken hin die Hufe,
Sie zerstampfen jäh im Sturm die hingesunk'nen Blüten,
Hei! Wie flattern im Taumel seine Mähnen,
Dampfen heiß die Nüstern!

Gold'ne Sonne webt um die Gestalten,
Spiegelt sie im blanken Wasser wider.
Und die schönste von den Jungfrau'n sendet
Lange Blicke ihm der Sehnsucht nach.
Ihre stolze Haltung ist nur Verstellung.
In dem Funkeln ihrer großen Augen,
In dem Dunkel ihres heißen Blicks
Schwingt klagend noch die Erregung ihres Herzens nach.

Young girls picking flowers,
Picking lotus flowers at the riverbank.
Amid bushes and leaves they sit,
gathering flowers in their laps and calling
one another in raillery.

Golden sun plays about their form
reflecting them in the clear water.
The sun reflects back their slender limbs,
their sweet eyes,
and the breeze teasing up
the warp of their sleeves,
directs the magic
of perfume through the air.

O see, what a tumult of handsome boys
there on the shore on their spirited horses.
Yonder shining like the sun's rays
between the branches of green willows
trot along the bold companions.
 
The horse of one neighs happily on
and shies and rushes there,
hooves shaking down blooms, grass,
trampling wildly the fallen flowers.
Hei! How frenzied his mane flutters,
and hotly steam his nostrils!

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Golden sun plays about their form
reflecting them in the clear water.
And the most beautiful of the maidens sends long looks adoring at him. Her proud pose is but a pretense;
in the flash of her big eyes, in the darkness of her ardent gaze
beats longingly her burning heart.

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5. "Der Trunkene im Frühling" ("The Drunkard in Spring"

​Wenn nur ein Traum das Leben ist,
Warum denn Müh' und Plag'!?
Ich trinke, bis ich nicht mehr kann,
Den ganzen, lieben Tag!

Und wenn ich nicht mehr trinken kann,
Weil Kehl' und Seele voll,
So tauml' ich bis zu meiner Tür
Und schlafe wundervoll!

Was hör' ich beim Erwachen? Horch!
Ein Vogel singt im Baum.
Ich frag' ihn, ob schon Frühling sei,
Mir ist als wie im Traum.

Der Vogel zwitschert: Ja!
Der Lenz ist da, sei kommen über Nacht!
Aus tiefstem Schauen lauscht' ich auf,
Der Vogel singt und lacht!

Ich fülle mir den Becher neu
Und leer' ihn bis zum Grund
Und singe, bis der Mond erglänzt
Am schwarzen Firmament!

Und wenn ich nicht mehr singen kann,
So schlaf' ich wieder ein.
Was geht mich denn der Frühling an!?
Laßt mich betrunken sein!

​If life is but a dream,
why work and worry?
I drink until I no more can,
the whole, blessed day!

And if I can drink no more
as throat and soul are full,
then I stagger to my door
and sleep wonderfully!

What do I hear on waking? Hark!
A bird sings in the tree.
I ask him if it's spring already;
to me it's as if I'm in a dream.

The bird chirps Yes!
The spring is here, it came overnight!
From deep wonderment I listen;
the bird sings and laughs!

I fill my cup anew
and drink it to the bottom
and sing until the moon shines
in the black firmament!

And if I can not sing,
then I fall asleep again.
What to me is spring?
Let me be drunk!

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6. "Der Abschied" ("The Farewell"

​Die Sonne scheidet hinter dem Gebirge.
In alle Täler steigt der Abend nieder
Mit seinen Schatten, die voll Kühlung sind.
O sieh! Wie eine Silberbarke schwebt
Der Mond am blauen Himmelssee herauf.
Ich spüre eines feinen Windes Weh'n
Hinter den dunklen Fichten!

Der Bach singt voller Wohllaut durch das Dunkel.
Die Blumen blassen im Dämmerschein.
Die Erde atmet voll von Ruh' und Schlaf.
Alle Sehnsucht will nun träumen,
Die müden Menschen geh'n heimwärts,
Um im Schlaf vergess'nes Glück
Und Jugend neu zu lernen!
Die Vögel hocken still in ihren Zweigen.
Die Welt schläft ein!

Es wehet kühl im Schatten meiner Fichten.
Ich stehe hier und harre meines Freundes;
Ich harre sein zum letzten Lebewohl.
Ich sehne mich, o Freund, an deiner Seite
Die Schönheit dieses Abends zu genießen.
Wo bleibst du? Du läßt mich lang allein!
Ich wandle auf und nieder mit meiner Laute
Auf Wegen, die von weichem Grase schwellen.
O Schönheit! O ewigen Liebens – Lebens – trunk'ne Welt!

Er stieg vom Pferd und reichte ihm den Trunk
Des Abschieds dar.
Er fragte ihn, wohin er führe 
Und auch warum es müßte sein.
Er sprach, seine Stimme war umflort. Du, mein Freund,
Mir war auf dieser Welt das Glück nicht hold!
Wohin ich geh'? Ich geh', ich wand're in die Berge.
Ich suche Ruhe für mein einsam Herz.
Ich wandle nach der Heimat, meiner Stätte.
Ich werde niemals in die Ferne schweifen.
Still ist mein Herz und harret seiner Stunde!
Die liebe Erde allüberall
Blüht auf im Lenz und grünt aufs neu!
Allüberall und ewig blauen licht die Fernen!
Ewig... ewig...

The sun departs behind the mountains.
In all the valleys the evening descends
with its shadow, full cooling.
O look! Like a silver boat sails
the moon in the watery blue heaven.
I sense the fine breeze stirring
behind the dark pines.

The brook sings out clear through the darkness.
The flowers pale in the twilight.
The earth breathes, in full rest and sleep.
All longing now becomes a dream.
Weary men traipse homeward
to sleep; forgotten happiness
and youth to rediscover.
The birds roost silent in their branches.
The world falls asleep.

It blows coolly in the shadows of my pines.
I stand here and wait for my friend;
I wait to bid him a last farewell.
I yearn, my friend, at your side
to enjoy the beauty of this evening.
Where are you? You leave me long alone!
I walk up and down with my lute
on paths swelling with soft grass.
O beauty! O eternal loving-and-life-bedrunken world!

He dismounted and handed him the drink
of farewell.
He asked him where he would go
and why must it be.
He spoke, his voice was quiet. Ah my friend,
Fortune was not kind to me in this world!
Where do I go? I go, I wander in the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I wander homeward, to my abode!
I'll never wander far.
Still is my heart, awaiting its hour.
The dear earth everywhere
blossoms in spring and grows green anew!
Everywhere and forever blue is the horizon!
Forever ... Forever ...

Gustav Mahler: Das Lied von der Erde ∙ Eine Sinfonie für eine
Tenor- und eine Alt- (oder Bariton-) Stimme und Orchester nach Hans Bethges-Die chinesische Flöte

Judith Eckelmeyer ©2025