Songs of narrow streets we long ago
Left behind, of things we used to know,
Songs so far, far off about the ways
That we trod in long forgotten days.
And with wonder we'll remember slowly
Now a street, now some cathedral holy,
Or the shouting of a gondolier,
Many names that once we used to hear.
Smiling then as children smile in sleep,
Moving still our silent lips we keep,
And the word will, ere it spoken seems,
Fall into oblivion, death in dreams.
Over us the mighty vessels float,
Sails are bright on many a sombre boat.
Snow-white birds in gleaming sunshine fly,
Glistening nets upon the water lie,
Spanning all, with arches high and true
Glows the heavens' vault of sunlit blue.
IN THE FOG[1]
In the fog to wander, how queer!
Lonely is every bush and stone,
No tree sees the other near,
Each is alone.
Once my world was full of friends,
When my life still had light;
Now that the fog descends,
Not one is in sight.
Only he is wise who knows
The steady gloom to fall
That slowly round him grows,
Severed from all.
- ↑ Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.
