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.