Songs

1.

Ah, the symmetry how dainty
Of the limbs uprearing slender!
On the little neck, how charming
Of the lovely head the poise is!

Half alluring, half pathetic
Is the face, whereon the glances
Of a woman mingle warmly
With a child's unsullied laughter.

Were there not upon thy shoulders
Here and there, like sombre shadows,
Of the dust of earth some traces,
I should liken thee to Venus —

To the goddess Aphrodite,
Rising lovely from the ocean,
Sweetly blooming, fair and shining,
And, I need not mention, clean.

2.

" Eyes, ye lovely stars that perish! "
So the little song went ringing
That in Tuscany I heard once,
By the sea, a maiden singing.

'Twas a little maid that sang it,
By the sea her net she mended;
And she gazed until I kissed her:
To her mouth of roses bended.

When I saw you I remembered
Song and net and sea of glory —
I must stoop and kiss you also,
Just to finish off the story.

3.

'Tis a love-song ringing purely,
All I think and feel and sigh.
Ah! the God of Love must surely
Have a finger in the pie.

In my bosom he's conductor;
To his time my heart must beat;
All I think and feel, already
He has set to music sweet.

4.

What do yellow roses mean? —
Love with bitterness at strife,
Wrath that grudges Love his life,
Love that perishes of spleen.

5.

We gaze on one another
With laughter and with woe,
That our hearts should love so truly,
And our heads should doubt it so.

Dost feel how fondly, darling,
My throbbing heart entreats?
She shakes her head and whispers,
" God knows for whom it beats! "

6.

A man, although he's happy,
Grows tired as well, 'tis true,
When he has three lovely sweethearts,
And his legs are only two.

I visit the first in the morning;
I visit the second at night;
Beneath my roof the third comes
At noon, in broad daylight.

Farewell, my three beloved ones,
Two legs are all I own;
I'll pay my court to nature,
In some sylvan spot, alone.

7.

With stupid maidens I have thought,
" These stupid maidens bore me sadly! "
But when the clever ones I sought,
I seemed to prosper just as badly.

The clever ones were far too wise;
They asked too much, I loathed their chatter;
And they would laugh, and shirk replies,
When questioned on the weightiest matter.
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Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
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