Hortense

1.

All the kisses taken, given
By a woman, once I thought
From of old were fixed by heaven
And with Destiny in wrought.

So I kissed, and, with the kissing,
Was as earnest and as true
As if fear might be of missing
What was laid on me to do.

As with other things, I know now
There are kisses and to spare;
So I take the kiss and go now,
Light of heart and debonair.

2.

'Twas at the corner of the street,
We stood an hour and over; —
Discussed the tender bond of souls
'Twixt lover dear and lover.

And still we stood a hundred times
Our love with speeches proving;
'Twas by the corner of the street; —
We never thought of moving.

The Goddess of Occasion then —
A merry wench beguiling —
Came briskly up to where we stood,
And flitted past us smiling.

3.

In dreams I dream when waking,
And in waking thoughts by night,
In my soul your lovely laughter
Rings always for delight.

You remember Montmorency's, —
How you rode a donkey, gay,
Till you fell from off the saddle,
And in the thistles lay?

The donkey munched the thistles,
The donkey did not fret —
And ah! Your lovely laughter
I never shall forget.

4.

(She speaks.)

In a lovely garden growing,
Hangs an apple on a tree;
And, about the bough, a serpent
Coils him lithely, and I see
Serpent-eyes that glimmer softly
And that hold me; in the hiss
I can hear a golden promise
That allures like sweetest bliss.

(The other speaks.)

'Tis the fruit of life, this apple;
Taste its sweetness — only taste,
That the time you have for living
Run not utterly to waste.
Tender dove and beauteous maiden,
Taste it quick and unafraid —
'Tis your wise old cousin's counsel,
You may trust what she has said.

5.

I have tuned anew my cithern,
New the melodies I sing.
Old the text is! " Woman's bitter. " —
So said Solomon the king.

She'll deceive her lover surely,
As her husband in the past;
And the drops are only wormwood,
In love's golden bowl at last.

Do the Scriptures tell us true, then,
When the story they rehearse,
How the serpent drew upon you
First your dark and awful curse?

On its belly still the serpent
Lurks in every grove for harm,
And you hearken to his whisper,
Yielding softly to the charm.

Ah, how cold and dark! The ravens
Croak and circle to and fro
Round the sun; and love and gladness,
They were buried long ago.

6.

Your lying promise of delight
Deceived not long my heart;
Like a deceitful dream of night,
You came but to depart.

The morning broke, the mists dissolved
Before the shining sun;
We were already at the end
Ere we had well begun.
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Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
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