Poem by Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff, translated by Julia Kalman
💙🐰🌼 Spring is in the air, dear friends! May your days be filled with blossoming flowers, golden sunshine, and heartwarming moments shared with your loved ones. Happy Spring, lovelies! 🐣🌼🐰🌿🌺🥚🐥🐇
Take a moment to dive into my story, and spend at least 30 seconds soaking up its warmth and charm. Your genuine interaction means the world to me. With heartfelt thanks, I wish you a season brimming with love and laughter. 💙
I.
Quietly I ride in the carriage,
You are so far from me,
Wherever it may take me,
I remain with you.
Forests fly by, ravines,
And beautiful valleys deep,
And larks high in the sky,
As if calling your name.
The sun merrily shines
Far over the landscape,
I am so joyfully tearful
And sing quietly within.
From the mountain it goes down,
The posthorn echoes in the valley,
My soul becomes so cheerful,
Greeting you from the depths of my heart!
II.
I walk through the dark alleys
And wander from house to house,
I still cannot grasp it,
Everything looks so gloomy.
Many men and women pass by,
All looking so merry,
Driving and laughing and building,
It makes my senses reel.
Often when I see bluish streaks
Fly over the rooftops,
Sunshine wandering outside,
Clouds drifting in the sky:
Then tears come into my eyes,
Even in the midst of jest,
For those who love me dearly
Are all so far from here.
III.
Song, half-written with tears,
Fly there over mountain and ravine,
Where my beloved has stayed,
Soar through the blue air!
If she is rosy and merry, say:
I am sick to the core;
If she weeps at night, ponders silently by day,
Then say: I am well!
If her faithful love is over,
Well, then let pleasure and pain end too,
And to all who love me,
Fly and say: I am dead!
IV.
Oh darling, I left you behind,
My dear, sweet child,
There lurk many people full of malice,
They are so hostile towards you.
They would gladly destroy
The beautiful festival on Earth,
Oh, if only love could cease,
Let them take the rest.
And all the green places,
Where we walked in the forest,
They have surely changed now,
It is so still and cold.
Now there are many thousand stars
Placed in the cold sky,
Their golden swarm shines
Far over the snowy field.
My soul is so oppressed,
The streets are empty and dead,
So I took the lute
And sing in my distress.
Oh, if only I were in the quiet harbor!
Cold winds blow at the window,
Sleep peacefully, my darling, sleep,
True love will endure forever!
V.
Green was the meadow,
The sky blue,
We sat both
On the shining meadow.
Are those nightingales
Again, calling?
Larks resounding
From the warm air?
I hear the songs,
Far, without you,
It is spring again,
But not for me.
VI.
Clouds, gone towards the forests,
Clouds, flying over the house,
Could I hold onto you,
Fly with you far away!
All day through the forests I roam,
Full of thoughts I sit quietly,
Fleetingly I touch the strings,
Suddenly then I am still.
Beautiful, touching stories
Come to mind where I stand,
I must write, create joyfully,
Even though I am in pain.
Many a song I wrote
Long years ago,
When the world shone brightly
With faithful love.
If I find it again now with apprehension:
I am wonderfully moved,
For so long has passed,
What led me to that song.
These clouds move on,
All birds are awake,
And the landscape gleams cheerfully,
Wide and joyfully revealed.
Rain briefly descends,
The sun shines in between,
And your house, your garden stand
Above the forest in quiet radiance.
But you no longer wait with sorrow,
Where your beloved has been for so long —
And in my heart still kills me
This spell of pain.
VII.
With my lute,
Which has sounded so beautiful,
I come through many lands
Back to this town.
I walk through the alleys,
The night is so dark,
And everything so deserted,
I imagined it differently.
I stand long by the fountain,
Which still rushes on, as before,
Many have surely passed by,
No one recognizes me anymore.
There I heard violins, flutes,
The windows gleamed wide,
In between turning and polishing
Many strange, joyful people.
And my heart and senses burned,
I was driven into the wide world,
The musicians played,
And there I fell in the field.
Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (10 March 1788–26 November 1857) was a prominent German Romantic poet, novelist, playwright, literary critic, translator, and anthologist. His works have remained popular in German-speaking Europe since their publication.
[The info provided about Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff was sourced from Wikipedia.]
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Julia Kalman 