Auf dem Flusse
On the River
Winterreise A Journey into Winter
Müller
Wild, bright river
That babbled with such cheer,
How quiet you have grown –
Left no word you’d disappear …
Over your surface you have drawn
A thick unyielding crust,
And lie there cold and motionless
On a bed of grit and dust.
Now, with a sharply pointed stone
I’ll cut into your shell
The hour, day and name
Of her I loved so well.
The day of our first meeting,
The day I left again,
And round the names and figures
I’ll carve a broken chain.
My heart, here in this river
Do you recognise your state?
And do you think its undercurrents
Are also in full spate?
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