Heinrich Heine

Wherever they burn books they will also, in the end, burn human beings.

Wherever they burn books they will also, in the end, burn human beings.

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.

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.

Glow-worms on the ground are moving,
As if in the torch-dance circling.

Glow-worms on the ground are moving,
As if in the torch-dance circling.

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night
With comfort are downward gazing.

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night
With comfort are downward gazing.