Heinrich Heine

There lies the heat of
On your cheek’s lovely art:
There lies the cold of
Within your little heart

There was a king, now ageing,
With heart of lead, and head so grey
He took a wife, the old king,
A young wife too, men say

I Love this white and slender body,
These limbs that answer Love's caresses,
Passionate eyes, and forehead covered With heavy waves of thick, black tresses
You are the very one I've searched for In many lands, in every weather

Wandl' ich in dem Wald des
Through the wood when I am
In the dusky eventide,
Goes a dainty form in

A lonely fir-tree
On a height where north winds blow ;
It sleepeth, with whitened garment,
Enshrouded by ice and snow

This mad carnival of loving,
This wild orgy of the flesh,
Ends at last and we two, sobered,
Look at one another, yawning

Where shall I, of wandering weary,
Find my resting-place at last
Under drooping southern palm-trees
Under limes the Rhine sweeps past

Burst out in wailing riot,
Thou darkling martyr-lay,
That in my soul, flame-quiet,
I've borne this many a day

They loved each other, but
Would admit to the other they could:
As enemies, they saw each other,
And almost died of their love

When I’m made happy by lovely kisses,
Lying so sweetly in your arms’ prisons,
You mustn’t speak of Germany to me –I just can’t stand it – I have my reasons
Oh, leave me in peace about Germany

Well, this is awful weather;
Storming with rain and snow
I sit at the window,
Into the darkness below

My child, we were just children,
Two happy kids, that’s all:
We crept into the henhouse,
And hid there in the straw