Einst Sah Ich Viele

I saw a crowd of flowers in bloom,

On my way: too lazy of

To stir myself and pick them too,

I rode on by, on my proud horse.

Now, when I’m wretched and I’m dying,

Now, when my grave’s already aired,

Often in memory, painful, mocking,

The scent of flowers I scorned is there.

One, especially, of fiery yellow,

A violet, burns inside my head,

How I regret I never

Had that sweetheart in her bed.

My solace:

Lethe’s water

Even now, not lacking in its powers,

Refresh the foolish heart of Man,

With sweet forgetful midnight hours.