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To The Moon

  • Concours: Poésie d'amour
  • Auteur: Goethe
  • Bushes, valleys, silently,
    You fill with misty light,
    Easing my soul utterly
    Again, at last, at night:

    Soothingly you cast your gaze
    Over a dark country,
    As gentle and friendly eyes
    Guard my destiny.

    Glad, and troubled, times
    Echo in my heart,
    I walk between pain and delight,
    In solitude, apart.
  • Flow on, beloved flood: flow on!
    I’ll never know joy again,
    Laughter and kisses, both are gone,
    And loyalty flows away.

    There was a time I had as yet
    Life’s most precious thing!
    Ah, a man can never forget
    That which torments him!

    River, through the valley, murmur,
    Without rest or peace,
    For my singing, gently whisper,
    Murmuring melodies,

    When you rage on winter nights
    And then overflow,
    Or when around the Spring’s delights
    Of bursting buds, you go.

    Happy are we if, without hate,
    Hidden from the world,
    We hold a friend to our heart
    And with him explore

    What, unknown to all their art,
    Ignored, by all mankind,
    Through the labyrinth of the heart
    Wanders in the night.



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