Wie Melodien zieht es mir (It pulls at me, like a melody)
It pulls at me, like a melody,
Quietly through
my mind;
It blossoms like spring flowers
And wafts away like fragrance.
But when it is captured in words,
And placed before my eyes,
It turns pale like a gray mist
And disappears like
a breath.
And yet, remaining in my rhymes
There hides still a fragrance,
Which mildly from
the quiet bud
My moist eyes call forth.
Klaus Groth (1819-1899)
Heimweh
(Homesickness)
Oh,
if I only knew the road back,
The dear road to childhood's land!
Oh, why did I search for happiness
And leave
my mother's hand?
Oh, how I long to be at rest,
Not to be awakened by anything,
To shut my weary eyes,
With
love gently surrounding!
And nothing to search for, nothing to beware of,
Only dreams, sweet and mild;
Not
to notice the changes of time,
To be once more a child!
Oh, do show me the road back,
The dear road to childhood's
land!
In vain I search for happiness,
Around me naught but deserted beach and sand!
Klaus Groth (1819-1899)
Du bist wie eine blume (You are like a flower)
You are like a flower
So lovely, pure and fair;
I gaze upon you
And
sadness steals into my heart.
I fain would lay my hands
In blessing on your brow,
Praying
that God may keep you,
So lovely, pure and fair.
Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
How happy is the little stone
That rambles in
the road alone,
And doesn't care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing
universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
Love's Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle -
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
Percy Shelley (1792 -1822)