Heinrich Heine

With the rose the butterfly's deep in love,
A thousand times hovering round;
But round himself, all read more

With the rose the butterfly's deep in love,
A thousand times hovering round;
But round himself, all tender like gold,
The sun's sweet ray is hovering found.

The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
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The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
In the light of the setting sun.

The spring's already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
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The spring's already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.

In vain would I seek to discover
Why sad and mournful am I,
My thoughts without ceasing read more

In vain would I seek to discover
Why sad and mournful am I,
My thoughts without ceasing brood over
A tale of the time gone by.
[Ger., Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten,
Dass ich so traurig bin:
Ein marchen aus alten Zeiten
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.]

Thy letter sent to prove me,
Inflicts no sense of wrong;
No longer wilt thou love me,--
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Thy letter sent to prove me,
Inflicts no sense of wrong;
No longer wilt thou love me,--
Thy letter, though is long.