To The Moon
- Конкурс: Любовная поэзия
- Автор: Goethe
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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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