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Dem holden Lenzgeschmeide, Der Rose, meiner Freude, Die schon gebeugt und blasser Vom heißen Strahl der Sonnen, Reich' ich den Becher Wasser Aus tiefem Bronnen. Du Rose meines Herzens! Vom stillen Strahl des Schmerzens Bist du gebeugt und blasser; Ich möchte dir zu Füßen, Wie dieser Blume Wasser, Still meine Seele gießen! Könnt' ich dann auch nicht sehen Dich auferstehen.
Text Authorship:
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 63
To the lovely jewelry of Spring, to the rose, my delight, that is already bowing and turning pale from the hot beams of the sun, I reach out a cup of water from a deep well. You rose of my heart! From the silent beam of pain you bow and turn pale; At your feet, I would like, as this flower water does, to silently pour my soul out, even if I then might not see you rise.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Go to the general view
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 81
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