Cycle of eight songs to poems by Heinrich Heine

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Mortal, sneer not at the devil;
   Life's a short and narrow way,
And perdition everlasting
   Is no error of the day. 

Mortal, pay thy debts precisely,
   Life's a long and weary way;
And to-morrow thou must borrow,
   As thou borrow'dst yesterday. 

Through the forest
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Dost thou hate me then so fiercely,
   Hast thou really changed so blindly?
To the world I shall proclaim it,
   Thou could'st treat me so unkindly. 

Say, ungrateful lips, how can you
   Breathe an evil word of scorning,
Of the very man who kissed you
   So sincerely, yestermorning?

Softly, stars on high are wandering
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How can'st thou slumber calmly,
   Whilst I alive remain?
My olden wrath returneth,
   And then I snap my chain. 
Know'st thou the ancient ballad
   Of that dead lover brave,
Who rose and dragged his lady
   At midnight to his grave? 
Believe me, I am living;
   And I am stranger far,
Most pure, most radiant maiden,
   Than all the dead men are.

Das gelbe Laub erzittert, 
Es fallen die Blätter herab; 
Ach, alles, was hold und lieblich, 
Verwelkt und sinkt ins Grab. 

Die [Wipfel]1 des Waldes umflimmert 
Ein schmerzlicher Sonnenschein; 
Das mögen die letzten Küsse 
Des scheidenden Sommers sein. 

Mir ist, als müsst ich weinen 
Aus tiefstem Herzensgrund; 
[Dies Bild erinnert]2 mich wieder
An unsre Abschiedsstund'. 

Ich musste [von dir scheiden]3, 
Und wusste, du stürbest bald; 
Ich war der scheidende Sommer, 
Du warst der [kranke]4 Wald.