Gretchen am Spinnrade
Gretchen at her Spinning Wheel
Goethe
All peace has gone,
My heart is sore;
Gone for ever,
Forevermore.
When he’s not there
I’m in despair,
My world is all
As bitter gall.
Ah, my poor head –
All reason’s fled.
Ah, my poor brain –
I am insane.
At my window,
In the street,
It’s only him
I’d 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.
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