Learn to play easy piano versions of "The Trout" by Franz Schubert.

  • Difficult
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Program Notes

“Die Forelle” (The Trout) is a famous song composed by Franz Schubert. Originally for voice and piano, the words come from a poem by Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubert which tells the story of a trout being caught by a fisherman. This arrangement of “The Trout” is written in Paint with Piano notation for new piano students who are discovering how to read and hear music. Paint with Piano notation is colored to aid the visual memory and contains hand drawn notation elements to enhance readability. Teachers should be aware that the colors are not arbitrary. The color red represents all harmony that functions as rest (tonic), the color yellow represents enhancing functions (suddominant), and the color blue represents tension functions. Black notes are used for pitches that are non-harmonic tones.

Die Forelle (German)

In einem Bächlein helle,
Da schoß in froher Eil
Die launische Forelle
Vorüber wie ein Pfeil.
Ich stand an dem Gestade
Und sah in süßer Ruh
Des muntern Fischleins Bade
Im klaren Bächlein zu.

Ein Fischer mit der Rute
Wohl an dem Ufer stand,
Und sah's mit kaltem Blute,
Wie sich das Fischlein wand.
So lang dem Wasser Helle,
So dacht ich, nicht gebricht,
So fängt er die Forelle
Mit seiner Angel nicht.

Doch endlich ward dem Diebe
Die Zeit zu lang. Er macht
Das Bächlein tückisch trübe,
Und eh ich es gedacht,
So zuckte seine Rute,
Das Fischlein zappelt dran,
Ich sah mit regem Blute
das arme Fischlein an.

The Trout (English)

Across a clear brook gentle,
There shot in eager haste
The trout, so tempramental;
Quite arrow-like it raced.
I on the shore was gazing
And watched the brook disclose
The merry fish's bathing
To me in sweet repose.

An angler's reel unrolled
From where he stood below.
He watched with blood most cold
The fish swim to and fro.
So long no stone or sod
Stirred up the water pure
The trout from line and rod
Would stay, I thought, secure.

At length the thief lost patience
And made the brook obscure
With crafty agitations,
And here I could be sure
The rod had started curving;
The squirming fish was hooked.
With pounding blood observing,
At the betrayed, I looked.

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