Gretchen am Spinnrade
Gretchen at her Spinning Wheel

Goethe

All peace has gone,
My heart is sore;
Gone for ever,
Forevermore.

When hes not there
Im in despair,
My world is all
As bitter gall.

Ah, my poor head
All reasons fled.
Ah, my poor brain
I am insane.

At my window,
In the street,
Its only him
Id see or meet.

The way he walks,
His noble air,
His smiling mouth,
His eye so fair,

His way with words;
Constant delight!
His hand, his kiss,
Ah, feel so right.

I yearn so much
To be with him.
If I could touch,
Hold on to him,

If I could kiss
Him as I like,
And kissed by him -
Then let death strike.