Classic Poem

I

Er steht so starr wie ein Baumstamm

He stands as stark as a tree-trunk
?In wind and frost and heat;
His arms reach up to the heavens,
?Into the ground, his feet.
Thus suffers and stands Bagaritha,
?But Brahma will end his woe;
Down from the heights of heaven
?He lets the Ganges flow.
But I, beloved, must suffer
?Worse torments and in vain. . . .
Your eyes, that are my heaven,
?Shed not a drop of rain.
Emma, sage mir die Wahrheit

Emma, tell me, tell me truly:
?Was it Love that made me foolish?
?Or is Love itself the simple
Consequence of all my folly?
Oh, I'm troubled, darling Emma,
?Troubled by my foolish passion,
?Troubled by my passionate folly—
Most of all, by this dilemma.
Schon mit ihren schlimmsten Schatten

Now with shadows, dull and dreary,
?Evil night is creeping on;
Now our souls are worn and weary,
?Weary-eyed we sit and yawn.
You grow old and I grow older,
?And our Spring has lost its grace.
You grow cold and I grow colder
?As the Winter comes apace.
Ah, the end is sad; the tearless
?Sighs when Love begins to pall.
So, when Life grows cold and cheerless
?Let Death come and end it all.