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Durch die Bäume rinnt der Regen, Rinnt vom dunkeln Uferrand. Matte Lüfte kaum bewegen Das verwelkte Schilf am Strand. Keine Welle mag sich wühlen Aus dem weiten stummen Grab, Mit der Weide Haar zu spielen, Die sich thränend beugt hinab. Nur wenn manchmal mit Gestöhne Rasch ein Windstoß frägt vorbei Nach des See's verlorner Schöne, Und der Nixe Melodei, -- Schmerzlich leis ein Zucken gehet Dann den stillen See hinauf, Und des Nebels Bahrtuch wehet Ängstlich an den Bäumen auf.
Confirmed with C. Reinhold, Gedichte, Stuttgart: Carl Mäcken, 1853, page 61.
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This text was added to the website: 2016-01-11
Line count: 16
Word count: 83
The rain trickles through the trees, Trickles from the dark edge of the shore. Tired breezes barely move The wilted reeds at the shoreline. No wave is able to emerge From the wide, mute grave, In order to play with the hair of the willow That inclines itself, with tears. Only when occasionally, with moaning, A gust of wind swiftly passes, asking After the lost beauty of the lake, And the melody of the water nymph, -- With pain a quiet tremor passes Then up the quiet lake, And the pall of the fog wafts Anxiously up the trees.
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This text was added to the website: 2016-01-11
Line count: 16
Word count: 101
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