Moonrise Poem by Annette Von Droste-Hulshoff

I leant upon the balcony rail
And there, for your mild light, I waited.
High above me like crystals of clouded ice
Swam a melted canopy;
The lake shimmered across its quiet extent-
Were they pearls that flowed or clouds of tears?
I thrilled to the twilight gathering round
And there, for your mild light, I waited.

High I stood, next to the crests of Linden,
Deep below were branch, bough and trunk;
Moths led their humming dance through leaves
And I saw fireflies glowing as they rose
Whilst blossoms were sinking half asleep;
To me it was as if a heart were drifting to the harbour-
A heart overfilled with happiness and sorrow
And pictures of a blissful past.

The darkness rose, shadows intruded-
Where do you linger then, softly lingering ray?
They intruded like sinful thoughts;
The billowing canopy seemed to sway
As the sparks of fireflies were shaking,
The moths long since sunk to ground.
Only mountain peaks stood stark and near,
A dark judgmental circle in the gloom.

And branches murmured at my feet
Like warning whispers or deathly greetings;
A humming rose from the far off rills
Like murmurings of people in a meeting;
To me it was as if something must yield account,
As if a lost life hesitates,
As if a troubled heart must stand alone
In isolation with its guilt and pain.

There upon the waves sank a veil of silver
And slowly, you pious light, you rose
Lightly stroking the brooding alpine face
Transforming the judges to gentle sages.
The flash of waves became a smiling signal;
On every branch I saw the droplets flaring
And every drop seemed a ladies chamber
Wherein a homely lamplight glowed.

O moon! To me you are a belated friend
Who unites his youth to a poor lost soul
Clasping about him his dying memories
Of life's tender reflections.
No sun are you that charms and flashes,
Lives in rivers of fire and ends in blood-
You are what the poem is to the ailing singer-
A different, but oh, so soft a light!

Translation by: David Paley