Johann Ludwig Wilhelm Müller 1794-1827[/caption]Wilhelm Müller was born in Dessau and began writing poetry at age 14 upon the death of his mother. Later, with the financial aid of his stepmother, he was able to enter Berlin University to study history, literature and philology. His studies were interrupted by his volunteering for the Prussian army, however, in order to participate in the last battles against Napoleon but he recommenced his studies in 1815.
As well as poetry, his work included translations and theatrical works and literary criticism as well as editorial work on several 17th century poetry collections. He travelled to Egypt in 1817 and returned to Dessau via a prolonged stay in Italy. He was appointed public librarian which was an appointment he retained for the remainder of his working life.
His first major poetry collection Papieren eines Reisenden Waldhornisten contained the cycle later set by Schubert as Die Schöne Müllerin. He married in 1821 and published Lieder der Griechen in that year as well as Die Winterreise to which he added further poems in 1822-1824. His poetry devoted to the Greek struggle for freedom from Ottoman rule brought him public support that assisted him in his protests at the repressions of the Prussian government.
Over the next few years, he published extensively works that were highly regarded by publisher and readers. He contracted whooping cough in 1826, however, which was the probable cause of a swift decline in health leading to his death from a heart attack at age 32 years.
His works were highly regarded by Heine and were influential on Tennyson. They express life in a sensitivity of language that attracted criticism in later decades as being mere convention. Despite the critics confusing simplicity with naivety, his works remain honoured today largely assisted by Schubert's achievements in his great song cycles.
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Monument in Dessauer city park.[/caption]The Signpost
Wilhelm Müller
Why do I avoid the roads then
Where the other walkers go,
Seeking out the hidden pathways
Through the snowed up rocky heights?
Have I ever that committed,
That would make me shun the crowd?
Such a foolishness and craving
Drives me onto wasteland paths.
Signposts standing at the roadside
Pointing all towards the towns
And I walk without a purpose
With no rest and seek for rest.
There a signpost I see standing
There before me firmly set;
I must tread the path I've chosen
By which no one has returned.
More English translations of his poems:
http://www.poemswithoutfrontiers.com/Winterreise.html
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