The poem (Wilhelm Müller – from the printed original edition of 1824) with a change by Franz Schubert

From: Winterreise – Song XXIII

Drei Sonnen sah’ ich am Himmel stehn,
hab’ lang’ und fest sie angesehn;
und sie auch standen da so stier,
als könnten sie nicht weg von mir.
(Schubert: als wollten sie nicht weg von mir.)

I saw three suns standing in the sky,
I gazed at them long and fixedly;
and they too stood there so rigidly,
as though they could not move away from me.
(Schubert: as though they did not wish to move away from me.)

Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht!
Schaut andern doch in’s Angesicht!
Ja, neulich hatt’ ich auch wohl drei:
Nun sind hinab die besten zwei.

Ah, you are not my suns!
Better shine into other faces!
Yes, not long ago I too perhaps had three:
now the best two have sunk below.

Ging’ nur die dritt’ erst hinterdrein!
Im Dunkeln wird mir wohler sein.

If only the third would follow after them!
I shall feel more at ease in the dark.

Work data & overview

• Composer: Franz Schubert (1797–1828)
• Cycle: Winterreise D 911, No. 23 (Die Nebensonnen)
• Text source: Wilhelm Müller, Winterreise (1823/24)
• Composition: 1827; first print 1828 (Part II)
• Key area / metre / tempo: A major, 3/4, andante, schlicht
• Duration: approx. 2:00–3:00 minutes
• Scoring: Voice and piano (transpositions common)
• Form: a calm, almost tripartite design; homophonic texture, narrow vocal line

Data on the poem

• Author: Wilhelm Müller (1794–1827)
• Verse form: 10 lines; ending in a distich
• Devices: natural phenomenon as allegory, number symbolism of three, antithesis of light and darkness, formula of wish

Origins & cycle context

In the late second part of Winterreise, “Die Nebensonnen” stands immediately before Der Leiermann. The song thus already belongs to that final zone of the cycle in which movement, hope, or outward encounter no longer dominate, but rather an almost cold reckoning.

The natural phenomenon becomes here a psychological cipher: the three suns do not signify heightened brightness, but an excess of false light. Two of the “best” have already gone down; the third is to follow them. The wish for darkness is therefore not mere pessimism, but the desire no longer to be tormented by illusion.

After the stations of Täuschung, Der Wegweiser, and Das Wirtshaus, “Die Nebensonnen” seems like a quiet leave-taking from consolation itself. The world appears once more full of light, but that light no longer belongs to the wanderer.

Performance practice & reception

Pulse & diction: The song needs a calm, narrow 3/4 tread. Not floatingly Romantic, but composed, almost sober. The voice remains straightforwardly led; the text should speak, not lament.

Piano texture: The piano writing seems low-lying, homogeneous, and almost motionless. Little pedal, clear lines, no warm veils. It is precisely this simplicity that makes the text so piercing: the light is visible, but it offers no warmth.

Decisive is the last turn, “Im Dunkeln wird mir wohler sein”. It must not sound theatrical, but should remain as a quiet, terrifyingly clear conclusion.

Historical reference interpreters

• Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau – baritone
• Hans Hotter – bass-baritone
• Peter Schreier – tenor

Current interpreters with whom I collaborate

• Gerrit Illenberger
• Benjamin Russell
• Matthias Lika
• Johann Kristinsson
• Johannes Kammler

Analysis – music

Static tread & silent extinction

Schubert’s music in “Die Nebensonnen” seems almost motionless. The measured triple pulse remotely recalls the bearing of a sarabande, but without any impulse to dance. The vocal line remains narrowly drawn, moves in small intervals, and avoids every grand gesture.

Precisely therein lies its intensity: the song is not dramatic, but rigid. It gazes long, fixedly, and without evasive movement at its own image.

Harmony, form & the symbolism of three

The basic tonal sphere of A major seems at first glance unusually bright for this late station of Winterreise. Yet this major mode is not consoling, but cold and distant. Brief side-steps and harmonic shadowings open up darker regions, without ever truly leaving the ground plane.

The almost tripartite design supports the symbolism of the three suns. At the same time, the music seems already directed toward reduction: no outburst, no intensification, but a consistent impoverishment of affects. The ending remains not open in a hopeful sense, but as though extinguished.

Visual representation

Artistic visualisation by Evgenia Fölsche:
In the winter vastness, the wanderer stands and looks up at the sky. Above him several suns appear— an atmospheric light phenomenon, so-called parhelia. The cold landscape lies still, and the light seems at once clear and remote. The wanderer remains fixed in the act of looking, as though trying to comprehend the apparition.

The image thus takes up a central idea of the song: the parhelia are mirror-images— light without its own warmth, a reflection of a lost reality. For the wanderer, they stand symbolically for former hopes and ideals that once illuminated his life. Now he recognises them as deceptive companions in the wintry sky of his existence.

The composition emphasises the distance between human being and nature. The wanderer appears small in the vastness of the landscape, while the multiply refracted sun creates an almost unearthly atmosphere. As in Schubert’s music, a peculiar mixture of clarity and inner shock emerges: the harmony seems composed, almost calm— and yet beneath the surface lies a moment of farewell.

When the wanderer finally turns his gaze away, an inner decision is made: “Nun sind hinab die besten zwei”— the holding fast to former images has come to an end. What remains is the one sun that may also set. The image condenses this moment of recognition: between illusion and letting go, between light and final cold.

Analysis – poetry

Müller’s “Die Nebensonnen” belongs to the quietest and yet most shattering texts in Winterreise. Its point of departure is a real optical phenomenon: three suns in the sky. Yet the wanderer immediately reads this natural image as a sign of the soul. It is not a matter of meteorology, but of loss, disillusionment, and the wish to leave even the last remnant of light behind.

The apparition: fixed gaze and uncanniness

Drei Sonnen sah’ ich am Himmel stehn,
hab’ lang’ und fest sie angesehn;
und sie auch standen da so stier,
als wollten sie nicht weg von mir.

I saw three suns standing in the sky,
I gazed at them long and fixedly;
and they too stood there so rigidly,
as though they did not wish to move away from me.

At first the beginning seems almost documentary: seeing, looking, observing. Yet already within this calm there is something oppressive. The suns stand there “so rigidly”, motionless, almost hostile. Schubert’s reading, “als wollten sie nicht weg von mir”, intensifies the impression that this light brings the wanderer no consolation, but clings to him.

The unmasking: alien light

Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht!
Schaut andern doch in’s Angesicht!
Ja, neulich hatt’ ich auch wohl drei:
Nun sind hinab die besten zwei.

Ah, you are not my suns!
Better shine into other faces!
Yes, not long ago I too perhaps had three:
now the best two have sunk below.

Here the natural image tips into memory and loss. The suns that were “mine” once existed, but have now vanished. Müller deliberately leaves open what exactly these suns signify: beloved eyes, hope, aims in life, faith. Precisely for that reason the image is so powerful. The parhelia in the sky are now merely the cold, false substitute for something that once truly shone.

The consequence: wish for darkness

Ging’ nur die dritt’ erst hinterdrein!
Im Dunkeln wird mir wohler sein.

If only the third would follow after them!
I shall feel more at ease in the dark.

The conclusion is radical, precisely because it is spoken so quietly. The wanderer does not wish for the return of the lost light, but for the disappearance of the last remaining semblance. Light no longer signifies salvation, but painful memory. In darkness, so his conclusion runs, it would be more bearable.

Thus “Die Nebensonnen” belongs to those passages in Winterreise where it is no longer hope that is disappointed, but hope itself that appears as a burden.

Meaning & effect within the cycle

Within the cycle, “Die Nebensonnen” stands immediately before Der Leiermann and feels like a final inward contraction. The wanderer takes leave not only of love or homeland, but of the very principle of consolation. The song shows that an excess of false light can be more painful than darkness.

Precisely therein lies its extraordinary effect: the valuations are reversed. Light is no longer good, darkness no longer threatening. The wanderer wants no more mirage, no remnant of semblance, no false brightness. Thus “Die Nebensonnen” becomes one of the most final stations in Winterreise: not loud, not dramatic, but of terrifying clarity.

After this insight, only the strangeness of the finale remains. The path to Der Leiermann lies open, because the wanderer now also wishes to leave the last light behind him.

Evgenia Fölsche – performances & audio

Pianist Evgenia Fölsche shapes “Die Nebensonnen” with a narrow, calm pulse and clear, sober diction. The sound image remains dim, the lines narrowly drawn, the recognition without pathos. Precisely thereby the final turn emerges all the more strongly.

Audio example: Nebensonnen with Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Gerald Moore

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