Lotosblume Ängstigt, Die
Die Lotosblume ängstigt
The lotus-flower cowers
Under the sun's bright beams;
Humble and bowed with meekness
She waits for the night among dreams.
The Moon, he is her lover,
He wakes her with his gaze;
To him alone she uncovers
The fair flower of her face.
She glows and grows more radiant,
And gazes mutely above;
Breathing and weeping and trembling
With love — and the pain of love.
The lotus-flower cowers
Under the sun's bright beams;
Humble and bowed with meekness
She waits for the night among dreams.
The Moon, he is her lover,
He wakes her with his gaze;
To him alone she uncovers
The fair flower of her face.
She glows and grows more radiant,
And gazes mutely above;
Breathing and weeping and trembling
With love — and the pain of love.
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