Classic Poem

Nothing on earth I call my,
As the songs my lute,
But call 'the one who looked freud'ger
In the beautiful world into it!
All life deepest Beautiful
Do mysteriously yes tones
Only the pious singers known,
And the joy says no mouth,
The God placed wonderful
In the poet's inmost heart.
If the world so wild moves,
Anxiously looking for her rescuers:
About all fog billows
Arches He boldly the Arch of Peace,
And how, after verzog'nen bettors
Rauscht the earth again mild;
All buds blossoms drift;
And spring is his house,
And the Spring never goes out. -
Oh, you lovely woman picture!
Do you want to stay with the singer? -
Flowers bind't a strictly skill:
When the thousand voices singing,
All pain, all happiness
Eternally silent to conceal.
But in cool moon look
Stimulates her quiet spirit wings,
'd 'Duft'gen the chalice emerge.
See, already is the Sun 'dropped
From the sultry dark blue,
And shatters into a thousand sparks
Rings on the rocks and trees,
Until they all dream saved.
With the stars in the cool
Bloom as desires, rise songs
From the heart heavens sake,
And I feel it all back:
Old delights young car! -
Oh! so much I should like you say,
Tell right from bottom of my heart,
In the noise in the labor
I desire to merry go with you,
Chatting in the balmy night,
Until the Morning Star awakes! -