Maxioms by Heinrich Heine
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens read more
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.
We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.
The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
read more
The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
In the light of the setting sun.
