Verses by Friederike Brun, translated by Julia Kalman
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’I.
I think of you when the sun sinks
Over Rome’s ruins!
Bathed in the evening glow, illuminated by oak green,
The holy Tiber gleams!
I think of you when the horrors of ancient times
Echo through the halls!
The ivy’s net trembles in the moonlight,
On the high rampart of the giant wall!
When in the pine’s solemn columned temple
My eye delights,
Contemplation, profundity, sees
Your noble stamp all around!
There, by the eternal pyramid of the grave,
You were near to me!
Near to me as I beheld Orestes dedicated to the Eumenides,
Full of melancholy!
Electra’s lofty spirit, and womanly compassion,
Penetrated me deeply!
From the marble statue, the spirit of the Greek
Resounded like a tone from strings!
In the laurel forest, where the cypress darkens,
In the grove of myrtles,
When above me the arch of heaven sparkles,
My soul thinks of you!
Oh, of you, when above death, and grave, and earth,
My spirit soars!
May the Creator’s second almighty call
Pierce my grave as well.
When Nemesis, what strictly you demanded,
Has been atoned for,
And Psyche, to whom the torch no longer flames,
Greets you as a rewarder!
II.
I think of you when the spring paints itself in showers of blossoms,
And when the summer’s gentle, ripened blessing
Radiates in ears of grain.
I think of you when the world sea resounds,
Rising towards the heavens,
And when the shore groans back
Against the fury of the waves.
I think of you when the young day, golden,
Rises from the lake,
And the morning dew hovers
Over newborn, delicate flower clusters.
I think of you when the evening, reddening,
Loses itself in the grove,
And Philomela’s plaintive song,
Touches the soul.
I think of you when the colorful wreath of leaves
Greets us in autumn;
And when, in the brilliance of its snowy garment,
The year comes to a close.
By the grove’s spring, ah! in the light shade of the alders,
Your image beckons to me!
Quickly, the forest, quickly, the flower meadows
Are filled with radiance.
In the dim lamplight, in bitter suffering,
I thought of you!
My anxious soul pleaded near departure:
“Remember me!”
I think of you, until waving cypresses
Surround my grave;
And even in Lethe’s stream, your name
Shall bloom unforgotten!
III.
I think of you when the spring paints itself in showers of blossoms,
And when the summer’s gentle, ripened blessing
Radiates in ears of grain.
I think of you when the world sea resounds,
Rising towards the heavens,
And when the shore groans back
Against the fury of the waves.
I think of you when the young day, golden,
Rises from the lake,
And the morning dew hovers
Over newborn, delicate flower clusters.
I think of you when the evening, reddening,
Loses itself in the grove,
And Philomela’s plaintive song,
Touches the soul.
I think of you when the colorful wreath of leaves
Greets us in autumn;
And when, in the brilliance of its snowy garment,
The year comes to a close.
By the grove’s spring, ah! in the light shade of the alders,
Your image beckons to me!
Quickly, the forest, quickly, the flower meadows
Are filled with radiance.
In the dim lamplight, in bitter suffering,
I thought of you!
My anxious soul pleaded near departure:
“Remember me!”
I think of you, until waving cypresses
Surround my grave;
And even in Lethe’s stream, your name
Shall bloom unforgotten!
Friederike Brun, née Münther (3 June 1765–25 March 1835), was a Danish author and salonist.
Note: The poem was set to music by Carl Friedrich Zelter. When Goethe heard the composition, he adapted it into “Nearness of the Beloved.”
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Julia Kalman 