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By Rhine, our sacred river,
On mirroring waves is thrown
With its great Dom for ever,
Our great and sacred Cologne.

High in the Dom hath its station
A picture on leather of gold;
Amid my life's desolation
I saw it, and was consoled.

Flowers and seraphs hover
Around Our Lady there,
Whose eyes, lips, cheeks, discover
The face of my sweetheart fair.
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Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
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