RICHARD DEHMEL (1863- )
THROUGH THE NIGHT[1]
UT ever you, this sombre you, Through all the night this hollow soaring Of sound — and through the wires a roaring ; The homeward road my steps pursue.
And pace for pace this sombre you,
As if from pole to pole 'twere soaring;
Of thousand w^ords I hear a roaring,
And dumb my homeward road pursue.
FROM AN OPPRESSED HEART[1]
And still the roses gleam for me,
The sombre leaves their tremor keep;
Here in the grass I wake from sleep.
I long for thee,
For now the midnight is so deep.
The moon's behind the garden-gate.
Her light o 'erflows the lake with gloss,
And silently the willows wait.
On clover damp my limbs I toss ;
And never was my love so great !
So well I ne'er before had known
When I embraced thy shoulder dear.
Thy inmost self felt blindly near.
Why thou, when I had overflown,
Wouldst moan so from a heart of fear.
- ↑ 1.0 1.1 Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.
[303]
