Heinrich Heine Poems
|45.||I Love This White And Slender Body||4/20/2010|
|46.||Es War Ein Alter König||4/20/2010|
|48.||Der Tod, Das Ist||4/20/2010|
|49.||E'En As A Lovely Flower||4/20/2010|
|50.||From 'To Seraphime'||4/20/2010|
|51.||Death And His Brother Sleep (‘morphine’)||1/21/2003|
Comments about Heinrich Heine
A single fir-tree, lonely,
on a northern mountain height,
sleeps in a white blanket,
draped in snow and ice.
His dreams are of a palm-tree,
who, far in eastern lands,
weeps, all alone and silent,
among the burning sands.
Our death is in the cool of night,
our life is in the pool of day.
The darkness glows, I’m drowning,
the day has tired me with light.
Over my head in leaves grown deep,
sings the young nightingale.
It only sings of love there,
I hear it in my sleep.