18

Ah, Lily, I love thee so madly
As thou standest in dreams mid the grass,
And look'st in the streamlet so sadly,
And murmurest “Ah” and “Alas.”

Away with thy love and thy coaxing,
I know how deceitful thou art!
Thy tenderest words are but hoaxing,
For my cousin, the Rose, has thy heart.
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.