Heinrich Heine

Heinrich Heine

1,000 карма
United Kingdom (Great Britain)

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Every day so lovely, shining,
Up and down, the Sultan’s
Walked at evening by the water,
Where the white fountain splashes
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You will print such books as these
Then you're lost, my friend, that's certain
If you wish for gold and honor,
Write more humbly—bend your knees
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It has died in me, as it must,
Every idle, earthly lust,
My hatred too of wickedness,
Utterly now, even the sense,
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My golden-haired beauty,
I’m always sure of seeing,
In the Tuileries Gardens,
Under the chestnut trees
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A single fir-tree, lonely,
On a northern mountain height,
Sleeps in a white blanket,
Draped in snow and ice
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They loved each other with love so deep,
She was a tramp and he was a thief
When he was plying his naughty craft,
She lay on the bed and laughed
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Good-Fortune is a giddy maid,
Fickle and restless as a fawn;
She smoothes your hair; and then the
Kisses you quickly, and is gone
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