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Ich sah des Sommers letzte Rose blühn, Sie war, als ob sie bluten könne, rot; Da sprach ich schaudernd im Vorübergehn: So weit im Leben, ist zu nah am Tod! Es regte sich kein Hauch am heißen Tag, Nur leise strich ein weisser Schmetterling; Doch ob auch kaum die Luft sein Flügelschlag Bewegte, sie empfand es und verging.
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 61
I saw the Summer's last rose blooming; it was red, as if it could bleed; then, shuddering, I spoke in passing: "To be so far in life is to be too near to death!" Not one breeze stirred on that hot day; only a white butterfly withdrew gently; yet even though the beating of its wings hardly affected the air, the rose felt it and expired.
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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 69
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