Ich will nur Ihn!  Und doch, kommt er zu mir
Und plaudert dann von lauter schönen Dingen,
Von einem Lied, das er mich hörte singen,
Vom Sternenhimmel, von den Rosen hier,
Harr' ich umsonst, indes ich heimlich sacht
Zerreiß' an meinem Tuch die feinen Spitzen,
Daß endlich Feuer [werde sprühn und blitzen]1
Aus dieser diamantnen Seele Schacht.
Er scheut, sich hinzugeben.  Zarte Scham
Zwingt ihn, das Wort [ins Herz]2 zurückzupressen,
Daß meine Lieb' ihn ganz gefangen nahm
Und daß um mich er alles hat vergessen!

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)
Confirmed with Paul Heyse Gesammelte Werke, Dritte Reihe, Band V, Stuttgart & Berlin: J.G. Cottasche Buchhandlung Nachfolger, Verlagsanstalt Hermann Klemm A.G., [1924], page 686. Note: it is not from Heyse's Italienisches Liederbuch, although it is a translation from the Italian.

¹ Marx: "möge sprüh'n und spritzen"
² omitted by Marx

Authorship:

• by Paul Heyse (1830 - 1914), no title, appears in Übersetzungen, in Unter uns/ Von Komtesse Lara, no. 2 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Based on:

• a text in Italian (Italiano) by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist [text unavailable]
  • Go to the text page.

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

• by Joseph Marx (1882 - 1964), "Liebe", 1907 [ soprano and piano ], from Italienisches Liederbuch, no. 1 [sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

• ENG English (Sharon Krebs) , "Love", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
• FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Amour", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Research team for this text: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor] , Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2010-11-19
Line count: 12
Word count: 85

I want only him!  And yet, when he comes to me,
And speaks then of all kinds of lovely things,
Of a song that he heard me sing,
Of the starry sky, of the roses here,
I wait in vain, while I gently and secretly
Tear the fine lace upon my shawl,
[So that fire might finally spew forth and flash]1
From the depths of this diamond-hard soul.
He is shy of giving himself over [to his feelings].  Delicate modesty
Forces him to press the words back [into his heart]2,
That my love has captured him completely
And that for me he has forgotten all else.