1 min read
Слушать(AI)Still Ist Die Nacht
The night is so still, the streets are at rest,
This is the house that my love graced,
This is the town she’s long since left,
But the house is here in the selfsame place.
A man’s there too, who stands and stares,
And wrings his hands, in violent pain:
When I see his look it makes me scared –The moonlight shows my face again.
You doppel-gänger!
You pallid creature!
Why do you act that torment through,
Love, torturing me on this very corner,
For so many nights, those years I knew.
Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine (13 December 1797 – 17 February 1856) was a German poet, writer and literary critic. He is best known outside Germany for his ear
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Evening Gossip
We sat by the fisher's cottage, We looked on sea and sky, We saw the mists of evening Come riding and rolling by : The lights in the lighthouse window Brighter and brighter grew,
Losses
Youth is leaving me; but By new courage it's replaced ; And my bold arm circles Many a young and slender waist
Mein Tag War Heiter
My day was happy, fortunate my night My People loved me when I struck the Of Poetry Passion was my song, and fire:
Een As A lovely Flower
E'en as a lovely flower, So fair, so pure thou art; I gaze on thee, and sadness Comes stealing o'er my heart My hands I fain had folded Upon thy soft brown hair,
