Die Lotusblume ängstigt
The Lotus-flower doth languish
Beneath the sun's fierce light;
With drooping head she waiteth
All dreamily for night.
The Moon is her true lover,
He wakes her with his glance:
To him she unveils gladly
Her gentle countenance.
She blooms and glows and brightens,
Intent on him above;
Exhaling, weeping, trembling
With ever-yearning love.
Beneath the sun's fierce light;
With drooping head she waiteth
All dreamily for night.
The Moon is her true lover,
He wakes her with his glance:
To him she unveils gladly
Her gentle countenance.
She blooms and glows and brightens,
Intent on him above;
Exhaling, weeping, trembling
With ever-yearning love.
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